


The Many Tales of Mr Anthony E. Stark

by SkywardGeek



Series: The Trials and Tribulations of one Anthony Edward Stark [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU: Fairytale, Age Regression/De-Aging, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Ceiling Vent Clint Barton, Clint Barton & Tony Stark Friendship, Clint is a well meaning asshole sometimes, Crack, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Tony, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Lapdance, M/M, Mild Smut, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark Friendship, Near Drowning, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Past Child Abuse, Pre-Slash, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tony Angst, Tony Being Tony, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony is really stupid sometimes, Tony loves Disney films, What Have I Done, child!Tony, leading to actual slash, let's see how much I can put Tony through, what am I doing with my life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-03-30 13:46:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 142,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3939076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkywardGeek/pseuds/SkywardGeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark deals with a lot. First there is Stark Industries and his teasing CEO, then there is a frat-house *cough* I mean tower full of very grown-up super-heroes. Bake-offs and video game competitions (it is totally Clint's fault that Tony has to buy a new TV) and parties and bets. You'd think magic was the top of the list that Tony has to deal with. But no, even when Loki comes to town Tony is still a tad preoccupied with a certain Super Soldier. Then there is feelings, god how Tony hates feelings. But he deals.</p><p>I honestly swear I love Tony, please believe me. Please. Also unknown chapter count, currently we are looking at over 15 but more to come most likely (okay, now there's over 20) (actually now we are looking at around 30)   :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Morning After

# Chapter 1 – The Morning After

 

Tony was not hiding in his workshop, absolutely not. So what if he had immediately fled Steve’s room after the best night’s sleep he had in years. He hadn’t slept that well since… well since before Afghanistan. And it’s not like he wanted to spend the rest of his life curled up next to Steve, definitely not. He picked up a soldering iron and began making repairs to Butterfingers. The bot hummed and whirred, the noises sounding vaguely happy. Once he completed the work he bit back a yawn. No he was not tired. Coffee. That was all he needed.  
“Jarvis, anyone in the kitchen?”  
“Not currently, sir.”  
“Excellent, start the coffee.”  
Meandering his way up the stairs and into the kitchen, following the smell of robust coffee. Grabbing a porcelain mug, he filled it taking a moment to inhale the intoxicating full-bodied aroma. A sip and he was in bliss, the bitter, strong taste washing over him, just the right side of painful. His eyes closed, taking in the silence of the tower. A rare occurrence. Must be really late at night. Or really early in the morning. A touch on his shoulder caused a rather undignified squeak to escape his lips. Breathing hard, hand clasped to the arc reactor he forced an eye open. Clint smirked at him. Tony glared back.  
“The fuck Barton?”  
“Just makin’ sure you weren’t sleeping in the kitchen again.”  
“Again?”  
The corners of Clint’s mouth quirked up.  
“Yeah, normally after one of your insomniac episodes. Steve usually drags you to bed or you wander back down to the workshop.”  
“Steve does what?”  
Tony could feel his cheeks heat at the very mention of Steve and Bed in the same sentence. Clint kept that annoying, knowing look plastered on his face, but covered it with a quick sip of coffee.  
“You doin’ okay? Haven’t seen you in a few days.”  
Tony nodded, his brain trying to redirect blood flow back up top.  
“Y’sure? It’s been like three days. I mean you are still ill right?”  
Tony flicked away the interrogation with his hand.  
“I’m fine, I’m working. Fully recovered. Really need to work right now. Stark Industries and all that.”  
Clint shrugged and just like that he wandered out the kitchen.  
“Don’t sleep in the kitchen,” he called back over his shoulder, “it’s really creepy finding you there in the morning.”  
“Don’t worry Barton, coffee is my friend right now.”  
Tony grinned, refilling his cup. The sound of Clint’s steps retreated, stopping outside of, huh Coulson’s room. That’s… That’s new. Or he’d never noticed. That seemed more likely. More footsteps, heavy, military. Dammit. Time for a hasty retreat. Grabbing the tablet he brought everywhere and balancing the burning cup in the crook of his elbow, Tony Stark all but ran for the door. He ignored the feeling of fingers reaching to grab for his wrist and fled downstairs.

 

“Sir.”  
“Hmmm,” murmured the Genius Billionaire Playboy Philanthropist by way of answering.  
“Sir,” came the AI’s more stressed sounding reply.  
Rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, Tony Stark woke up very slowly, stretching and knocking half his blueprints off the workbench.  
“Yeah Jarvis, I’m up, I’m up. How long was I out?”  
“Approximately 27 minutes. You have a meeting with Miss Potts and the board of directors in an hour.”  
Tony blearily looked at the clock perched precariously on his latest prototype. He stared at the prototype for a moment, trying to figure out what the fuck he had been trying to make, before focusing on the clock. 2pm. Fuck. Tony was on his feet before his brain could catch up. Nothing scared him like Pepper’s rage, not Loki, not Dr Doom, hell AIM and HYDRA combined had nothing on her when she was in a mood. Which, coincidentally enough, was nearly all the time around Tony. He darted up the stairs, into his room and straight into the shower. Desperately he tried to scrub the motor oil out of his hair and the carbon and rust from under his fingernails. Quickly he stepped out towel-dried his hair and wrapped the towel around his waist. It was only then did he freeze, realising he left the bathroom door open, giving the Super Soldier that was balanced on the edge of his bed a perfect view of himself. He could feel heat crawling up his neck, surely just a delayed reaction to the scorching heat of the shower. Catching a side-glance of himself in the mirror, his cheeks glowing a bright pink hue against his pale, exhausted skin. Just the steam.  
“How- How long have you been there?”  
Steve just arched his eyebrows in response. Tony swallowed, his throat tight. Steve shifted his body around, eyes to the window, sketchbook in hand as his hand flicked across the page. Tony was grateful for the modicum of privacy as he pulled on boxers, then finding a crisp white shirt and neatly pressed charcoal grey trousers.  
“Tony, I wanted to apologise.”  
That caught Tony mid-struggle as he pulled on his socks, balancing on one foot.  
“What for, Cap?” his tone curious and surprised.  
It was rare someone was apologising to him, usually he was the one who fucked up. Steve hadn’t done a thing.  
“I think I put you in an awkward position the other night.”  
“Cap, I have been in many awkward positions in bed, trust me that wasn’t one. They tend to be a lot more fun and or acrobatic,” he grinned with a wiggle of his eyebrows.  
The flush that travelled up Steve’s neck should not have been as hot as it was.  
“We’re okay Cap. We’re cool,” Tony said, his voice soft and calm belying the chaos in his mind.  
“Friends?”  
“Friends.”  
Friends, that was good. Clear boundaries. Of course friends looked after one another, and friends made sure the others didn’t die of hypothermia, and sleep-overs were a thing right? Boundaries.  
“Don’t you have an appointment in half an hour?”  
“Fuck, Pepper is going to kill me.”  
With that he shoved on his sports jacket and was out of the door, without another word.

 

“You are late Tony. Again. After you promised me.”  
“Well you always said I was unreliable, isn’t that why we stopped dating?” Tony joked.  
“One of many reasons,” Pepper countered, a smile playing across her lips.  
‘Ha, she smiled. I am off the hook’ Tony thought.  
“You are so lucky I know you, I had the meeting booked for three thirty.”  
“I’m really sorry, Pep. I was just talking to Steve and got distracted.”  
“And I don’t have time to deal with your crush Tony, I have a company to run and-“  
“I do not have a crush on Steve,” he replied, indignant at the accusation.  
“You’ve been in love with him since you were born-“  
“Now that’s just impossible, and-“  
“-and it only got worse when he was defrosted. Then you moved them all into the tower. And after that whole illness fiasco you’ve been acting really weird, so I am only going to ask you this once because I really don’t care, but did something happen between you and Steve? Are you fighting?”  
“No, no, nothing like that. I mean we slept together but- no not like that just listen- but it was purely innocent, he doesn’t like me and I don’t like him like that and stop smirking I don’t have a crush on Captain America.”  
“Tony and Steve, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G, first comes Chitauri, then comes the tower, then comes a life full of super powers,” she sing-songed at him, giggling while she did it, “Look just get into the meeting, it will be over soon then you can return home to your super-boyfriend.”  
“Did you write that down, or come up with that off the top of your head?”  
“Top of my head,” she grinned, walking into the meeting room to set up.  
Tony grumbled as he strode into the meeting room, glaring at her throughout. She had dealt with worse and simply shot him a look back.

 

Exhausting. The meeting had dragged on far too long. He knew stock prices were doing well and he had been behaving so they were likely to stay that way for a while. Staggering through the door, he listened for the familiar sound of Nat and Clint sparring in the Gym. He could hear Bruce in the lab next door muttering about formulae and equations. Thor had made a return journey to Asgard so the apartment was weirdly quiet.  
“Jarvis, cue up a film for me.”  
“Of course sir, which film would you like?”  
“Anyone in the Entertainments room?”  
“No Sir.”  
“Then Wreck-it-Ralph.”  
Tony stumbled into the room and collapsed on the couch, the opening credits playing at a low volume. The lights were fading to a dim glow. Tony stretch out across the couch, hand resting on his arc reactor, blocking out the light it threw across the room. He allowed himself his guilty pleasure of a Disney film or two. Or tried to. His eyes slipped shut before the opening credits finished.

 

“Nat grab Bruce, this is too funny to miss. Tell him to bring his phone, Cap would appreciate a pic, I am sure of that.”  
There was a sound of hushed footsteps, sidling closer to them. Tony was too tired to open his eyes, trying and failing to bat Clint away with his hand.  
“Disney films? Really? I never would have guessed that of you.”  
“Shut up Barton, you watch Ghibli every chance you get,” muttered Tony, still refusing to open his eyes. He was just too comfortable and warm. Only when a camera clicked did he rouse himself.  
“Why are you taking pictures?” he mumbled groggily.  
“I thought this to be an excellent blackmail opportunity, Stark,” came Natasha’s icy tones, almost but not quite hiding the laughter in her voice.  
With that Tony was awake, with remarkable suddenness that could only be caused by a Black Widow.  
“Careful, you’ll wake the team leader,” came Bruce’s hushed warning, barely stifling his chuckles.  
Tony froze, eyes darting to the figure next to him. His head had been pressed into Steve’s side, half on his lap, Steve’s hand just about resting in his hair. His head was lolling to the side, in the direction of Tony.  
“Why is Steve-“  
“He came looking for you, to see if you wanted dinner with us. Found you in here and-“  
“The film must have caught his attention,” finished Natasha who cast a knowing look at Bruce. One he returned with a nod. Now that wasn’t at all worrying.  
“You can’t get off the couch without waking him. So I guess you are stuck, unless you want to deprive Cap of sleep.”  
Tony narrowed his eyes at Clint then grumbled unintelligible words of annoyance before settling down onto Cap’s lap. He could feel his cheeks flame, and he couldn’t blame it on the heat of a shower this time. The sniggers retreated from the room and soon Tony drifted off, dreaming of warmth, the smell of paints and pastels creeping into his mind. He could convince Natasha to give him a copy of the photo later.


	2. A Little Drunk and a Lottle Lost

# Chapter 2 – A Little Lost and a Lottle Lost

 

“How do I look?” Tony asked, spinning around.  
Steve just stared, mouth hanging open. It took a few minutes to compose himself before he choked out a ‘nice’. Disappointment flashed across Tony’s face, quickly masked by a grin.  
“Well damn Cap, I’m just going to have to try harder. I didn’t get all dressed to the nines just for ‘nice’ now. JARVIS, tell Pep I’m on my way down.”  
“Yes sir, although you may want to consider changing your shoes, the sneakers might take away from the outfit.”  
“Always my favourite Jarvis, well belay telling Pepper, and I cannot believe my fashion sense just got criticised by an omnipresent computer.”  
‘Welcome back to sentences I never thought I’d hear’ thought Steve, stifling a grin as Tony ran back upstairs, taking them two at a time. He came down a few seconds later, more appropriate footwear cladding his feet. He peered into the library, and asked the question he had already asked six times.  
“You sure you don’t want to come?”  
“I’m sure, not really my kind of thing.”  
“Well I have got to glad-hand and flirt people out of their money so don’t wait up.”  
With a lazy salute, Tony left the room, silence enveloping once the tornado of energy left the building. Twenty minutes later and Steve’s phone buzzed on the wooden table at his side. Picking it up, he couldn’t help but grin at the message. ‘Last chance to grab your suit and join me.’ Steve picked up his phone and carefully typed out his message. ‘maybe next time.’

 

Great. This charity ball was duller than dishwater. Why did he have to attend? He had donated the money, surely that should get him out of this, not mean he should give a speech. It was a very good speech, along the lines of ‘give us your money or I will follow you for the rest of your life and my sheer awesomeness will make you look pale in comparison’ and none of it could get him scolded by Pepper. He hoped. This night would go a lot quicker if he could drink. But a promise is a promise and a promise to Steve is punishable by death if broken. The guilt alone would probably kill him, that or the puppy dog eyes. And after last time, who could blame Steve for not wanting him to drink. A blonde was pressed against his side, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.  
“Come on, just one drink with me.”  
“Sorry, I’m not drinking tonight.”  
“Just one, please. I thought Tony Stark knew how to show a girl a good time,” she goaded, her faintly English accent showing in her words.  
She had a martini in hand, bringing it up to his mouth with a delicate manicured hand. She smiled sweetly once the cocktail was down his throat.  
“Dance with me,” she smiled, saccharine and sweet.  
With that she spun him onto the dance floor.

 

Something wasn’t right. One martini should not have this effect. Dizzy, unstable on his feet. Tony made his excuses and left. He couldn’t find his car. Did he drive here? Where was here? He stumbled out of the building and wandered down the street. The buildings all looked unfamiliar. He found his phone in his pocket. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth as he tried to call through for Jarvis.  
“Jaaaaviz,” he slurred.  
“Sir,” the AI responded, concern curling around the single syllable.  
“I dun feel well. Scan pliz.”  
Tony giggled as he held his phone out. Then he pulled out the small blood tester, completing that with a sting on his finger.  
“Sir, you are well below the legal limit for alcohol but your actions suggest you have consumed far greater amounts than that. Your blood suggests an unknown substance.”  
“I wan Steeeeeeeeeeve,” Tony whined into his phone.  
“Would you like me to call Steve sir?”  
“Nooope. I wan Steeve here.”  
With that Tony flicked his phone off and careened headlong down an alley. He only ceased moving when he crashed into a dumpster. His back against it as he slid to the floor. Pulling his legs to his chest, he rested his head on his knees.  
“I want Steve.”

 

“Captain Rogers.”  
Steve started, nearly spilling coffee all down himself. He glanced up at the ceiling.  
“Hi, how can I help you Jarvis?”  
“Have you heard from sir this evening?”  
Steve frowned, eyebrows creating a deep furrow.  
“A text earlier, Jarvis. Is something wrong?”  
“Sir called me a half hour ago and he did not seem himself. I have made numerous attempts to get back in contact but he appears to have turned off his phone.”  
“Where is he Jarvis?”  
“His last known location was an alleyway just off Fifth Avenue. But-“  
Jarvis’ words fell on absent ears as Steve ran out the door.

 

He couldn’t move. He could not move. Panic was setting in suffocating. What if someone took it again? What if they took the arc reactor? It’s not like Dummy would be here to help now. He couldn’t fight it. He needed to move but he was stuck here, curled up next to this dumpster, fighting tooth, nail, and everything in between to remain conscious. Heavy footfalls caused his breathing to become erratic. His lungs didn’t seem to understand when they’d had enough oxygen. He craved more, his lungs gasping it in.  
“Tony!”  
He knew that voice. That was a voice of safety. But his breathing was taking precedence over trying to figure out who the fuck was speaking.  
“Oh no, Tony, are you having a panic attack?”  
He couldn’t answer and that made things so much worse. But someone was leaning over him breathing strong clear breaths.  
“Match your breathing to mine, with me. In, and out.”  
Slowly, Tony managed to match the rhythm of the warmth canting over him. His head was being gently tipped up, fingers hooked under his chin to meet warm blue eyes. Steve, oh thank god, it’s Steve. Some of the relief must have bled out onto his face because Steve smiled, calm and reassuring.  
“Can you speak at all?”  
“Steve,” Tony croaked out, using all of his will to create that one word.  
Steve simply crouched down, hooked one arm under Tony’s knees and the other around his back and lifted him off the ground.  
“You said you wouldn’t drink,” Steve frowned.  
Tony’s head just thumped softly against Steve’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering closed.  
“I’m sorry,” came Tony’s weak voice, sounding amazingly close to tears.  
The comms unit chirped in Steve’s ear.  
“You found him yet?”  
“Yeah, wake up Bruce, I think something is very wrong.”  
He heard a deep sigh at the other end of the line.  
“We talking STI or alcohol poisoning?”  
“Neither.”  
“Well shit.”  
With that the line went dead and he started the long walk back to the tower.

 

“Jarvis, thoughts?” Nat quizzed.  
“His blood alcohol levels suggested he was well below the legal limit, it indicated he had maybe one strong drink or several weaker ones.”  
“He promised me he wouldn’t drink,” Steve frowned.  
“Right now, that’s the least of our concerns. Anything else?”  
“His blood report showed an abnormality.”  
“What kind?”  
“Unknown, Dr Banner. Sir did not request a complete scan. Preliminary scans only suggested that it should not be in his blood stream and is from no known medication that sir has ever taken.”  
“Please send the details to my lab.”  
“Of course Dr Banner.”  
They all, in unison, turned to look down at the sleeping Stark. He was still curled up, knees pressed up to the arc reactor, the lines of his body tense but his face lax and peaceful. Steve sat down next to him, hand carding through the tousle of brown curls. Tony hummed slightly in his sleep, head pushing slightly into the touch.  
“I need to do a check, we need to wake him.”  
Banner shook Tony’s shoulders lightly, causing Tony to startle awake. What little control of his motor functions he gained through sleep was entirely used to bring his hands up to his chest, effectively blocking the arc reactor from view.  
“Tony, what happened tonight?”  
He grinned, his eyes unfocused.  
“Charity ball,” he slurred.  
“What happened at the ball?”  
“I speeched, I spoke a speech. British octopus was grabby so I tried to escape. She gave me a drink. I didn’t want it because Steve has killer puppy dog eyes but she made me drank it. It must have been really strong,” Tony whirled his head round to emphasise his point, “because in like no time I couldn’t stand. So I left. But there was this alleyway. I got a little bit drunk and a lottle bit lost. And Steeeeeeeve.”  
Suddenly he stopped talking, eyes large and fearful. He looked strangely young and vulnerable, curled up into the smallest form he could take.  
“Is Steve mad? Where am I? How did I get here?”  
“No Steve is not mad,” Tony relaxed after that, “you are in the Tower, specifically your bedroom. Steve found you in that alleyway and he carried you home,” Bruce responded calmly.  
“Huh? I’m tired,” Tony yawned, apparently not caring much about the rest of the answer Bruce just gave.  
“Maybe someone should watch over him.”  
“I wan’ Steeeeve,” Tony whined.  
“Sir was requesting you earlier as well Captain.”  
Steve just shrugged and smiled. He caught one of Tony’s desperately flailing hands in his and held it steady. The tactile comfort must have been enough because Tony slumped back into the pillows, dragging Steve down in his wake. Natasha smirked.  
“I’ll come swap with you in about an hour.”  
“Thanks Nat.”  
Tony blew a raspberry in her direction, which most remarkably she did not stab him for. She looked concerned and turned to the doctor.  
“Any ideas doc?”  
“I think he was drugged.”  
That caused every head to turn to him, except of course Tony’s who had sat up with Steve and began looping his arms around Steve’s neck, nuzzling against his jaw, lips ghosting over the warm skin. Steve was blushing a painful pink before Clint took pity and worked Stark’s arms off of him.  
“Maybe you shouldn’t be alone with him.”  
“I won’t do anything.”  
“You won’t. He might.”  
“I am pretty sure I can hold him off,” said Steve, eyebrows raised.  
Clint shrugged in an ‘if-you’re-sure’ way then they all retreated. Tony’s cheek was pressed against his back, his breathing warm and deep and steady. Steve carefully turned his body around so he was face to face with Tony and pushed him back onto the bed. He didn’t so much as stir at the movement but his arms were linked around Steve in a vice-grip, dragging Steve wherever he went. So Steve resigned himself for a night next to Tony, and no he should not be happy about that, his friend was drugged, he could not be happy about that. He still pulled Tony closer.

 

When Natasha came in to relieve Steve of his Stark-sitting duties, she was entirely unsurprised to find them curled up in bed together. To all the world, if the world ever saw this, they would have looked like lovers, the closeness and intimacy there in the way they clung to each other in sleep. Like their world’s would fall apart if they let go. Steve’s body was curled around Stark’s smaller frame, his legs tucked over Stark’s, with one arm wrapped protectively around his waist pinned underneath Tony, his other hand resting on the arc reactor. Tony’s face was turned towards Steve, his chin tucked into the crook of Steve’s shoulder. One hand was still draped around Steve’s neck, the other was scrunched up in the fabric of Steve’s shirt, just over the collar bone. Now if only these two would get their heads out of their asses’ and go on a date. Until then they were a bizarre knotting of limbs but they looked relaxed. Natasha left as quickly and quietly as she came. But not before getting another photo.

 

He felt like he has been hit by a truck. Then run over by the truck. Closely followed by a bus, a train, and another tumble around SHIELD turbine engines. This would not be a fun morning. Let’s just sleep until not morning. That sounded like a good idea. He tucked himself closer to the source of warmth in his bed and murmured in contentment.  
“Tony?”  
The voice rumbled beneath his ear, despite it being spoken oh so softly.  
“Hmm? Sleeping here Rogers.”  
Wait Rogers? Goddammit. It seemed like every time he fell asleep lately Steve was there. Steve started to pull away, trying to untangle himself from Tony. Tony looped his arms around the Captain’s waist and dragged himself closer. Well he needed the warmth, that was pure survival instinct.  
“Tony, what are you-“  
“Shhhh, sleep Steve.”  
He felt arms creep around him, cautiously, tentatively settling on his back and pulling him in close. He drifted back off to sleep in a matter of minutes.

 

When Tony next woke up he woke up alone but feeling less like he’s been hit by various vehicles. He stretched across the bed, seeking his company but came away empty handed. Shaking all manner of perverse thoughts from his head and trying not to mourn the loss of heat next to him, he got up and staggered to the kitchen. Everyone was waiting for him. Dammit, it’s an intervention. How much did he drink last night to make this come to be? He couldn’t recall it being that much, but then again he was way past blackout drunk.  
“Tony,” Steve spoke first, his voice gentle.  
Tony flinched away from it. That concerned tone never bode well for him. Natasha blocked the door and at that point he rightly knew he was fucked. There was no getting past the infamous Black Widow.  
“In my defence-“ Tony attempted starting.  
“No, Tony. What do you remember of last night?” Banner asked, shining a pen light in Tony’s eyes.  
Tony blinked as the bright light triggered a pounding headache, one he managed to stave off until now. He paused for a moment, trying to back track last night. All that came up was white noise, a blank slate of memories. That wasn’t good.  
“Nadda, look I know I probably drank too-“  
He stopped midstream to everyone shaking their heads. He hopped up, seating himself on the counter next to the sacred coffee pot. He took a long gulp of the burning liquid before continuing. He hopped down from the counter, fingers tapping a constant staccato rhythm on the marble worktop.  
“Okaaaay, what do you guys know that I don’t?”  
They all cast cautious glances but Steve stepped forward.  
“Tony,” his voice sotto voce, “you can’t remember last night because you were drugged, not because you drank too much.”  
And like that Tony’s vision whited out. He could feel arms wrapped around him, under his arms and bracing his waist. But all strength of his legs had given out.  
“Wha-what?” he choked out, “what? What kind?”  
“Rohypnol.”  
“Ro- no that can’t be.”  
“We called the bartender, he said you only had one martini, bought for you by an attractive blonde.”  
“I ran the blood tests.”  
“As far as we are aware nothing happened to you, Stark Industries, or anything at all. We wondered if it hit the wrong target, maybe intended for the woman.”  
Tony sighed a little.  
“Well at least I drank it and not her then,” he shrugged, a slight rise and fall of his shoulders.  
“Tony-“ Bruce started.  
“Can we drop it? I just want coffee,” his voice was harsh and bitter.  
With that they all stilled, except Tony, downing cup after cup. Slowly, they trickled away, resuming their ordinary activities. Steve just stood beside Tony, their shoulders just brushing each other.  
“Steve, you found me right? What happened?”  
His voice was soft and helpless, a plea at trying to find some stability in this.  
“Well Jarvis contacted me, saying he was unable to get in touch with you. He told me your last location and I went straight there. I found you curled up on the floor-“ Tony groaned but Steve ignored him and powered through his explanation, “-you couldn’t move, seemed to find incredible difficulty in speaking and incredibly disorientated. I had to carry you home.”  
Steve’s explanation juddered to a halt and Tony finally glanced up from the dregs in his cup.  
“And then?” he prompted.  
“Then I brought you to your room, I had radioed through to Clint earlier and he had Banner waiting. Banner checked you over, got Jarvis to send him the data on your blood, and then told us he thought you had been drugged. We didn’t know what drug at the time so we decided you needed someone to stay with you. You- I- Well you went to sleep, we made sure it had as few ill-effects as possible, and yeah.”  
The hasty finish caused Tony to narrow his eyes at the soldier. Steve never hides anything, never lied. But he was lying now and was doing a lousy job of it.  
“Thanks, I think I am going to sleep for a bit longer.”  
“Okay Tony, let me know if you need anything.”

 

“Jarvis, security footage from last night, NOW.”  
The images flashed in front of him, fast-forwarding until he was wrapped around Steve, lips trailing along his neck. Tony could feel his whole body heat, his cheeks burning so bright he thought boats could use him to find safe waters in the dark. Frantically he looked up symptoms of Rohypnol intoxication. He swallowed, forcing the motion past his tight throat, when he found the unwanted answer to his fearful question. Disinhibition. He did not think his blush could burn brighter but he was wrong, very wrong. He let the feeling of complete mortification sweep over him. Because embarrassment he could deal with. Embarrassment from a night of drinking was a feeling he was intimately familiar with. Because that was better than the feeling of fear that had curled up in his stomach the moment he woke up. Fear caused by a missing night and details that had slipped from his mind.


	3. Of Course I Can Fucking Swim

# Chapter 3 - Of Course I can Fucking Swim

 

Tony sat in silence as he drained his coffee. It was creepy. They had no Avengers business, nothing Fury had planned for them, literally no work. It was a rare free day. But the entire tower was silent.  
“Jarvis, they are all in the tower still right? Did I get ditched?”  
“Yes sir, they all remain in the tower. And no sir, you have not been, as you put it, ditched. Steve attempted to invite you with them, but you were engrossed in your work.”  
“Invite me where?”  
“To your pool sir.”  
Tony nearly spat out the remains of his coffee, just after he finished the last lukewarm pool at the bottom of the mug.  
“I have a pool.”  
“Yes sir.”  
“When did I put a pool in?”  
“During the remodelling sir.”  
“Where?”  
“It is just off of the gym sir.”  
“Why.”  
This wasn’t a question but Jarvis answered it anyway.  
“Miss Potts argued that it would be good for exercise. I believe you were 72 hours without sleep by that point, and signed off on the plans without reading.”  
Tony rubbed at his skin, calloused hands scraping his goatee and stubble.  
“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like me.”

 

Tony stood, one shoulder leaning against the doorframe, surveying the room. The pool was rather magnificent. A section purely for doing lengths then there was half a pool dedicated to slides and water-rides and all manner of water-based entertainment. A Jacuzzi sat in the corner, and that he remembered requesting into the remodel. It took him a while to realise he’d never gone near it, let alone set foot in it. The Avengers seemed to be playing some bizarre form of volleyball except it was everyone vs Thor and they were tossing an inflatable Mjolnir back and forth. Thor did not seem to mind and in fact seemed to be winning, much to Barton’s chagrin. Steve glanced around catching Tony’s eye. He grinned, bright and wide, and waved at Tony.  
“Come on in, the water is lovely and warm.”  
Tony smiled and shook his head, leading to a frown on Clint’s face.  
“C’mon, we are getting thrashed here. We need all the extra people we can get.”  
“I’m good Barton. Not exactly dressed for it.”  
“You must have a suit somewhere.”  
Tony just shrugged. He did have a suit but it was used for lounging on sandy beaches in California, not being submerged in water.  
“If you aren’t going to join us Stark, then get your ass out of here. I know my ass is damn fantastic but I can’t have you leering at it that’s Coul- ow.“  
Natasha slapped him around the head, causing Coulson to glance up from his files at the edge of the room. He was dressed in his perfectly crisp suit, not a speck of water on him despite the constant splashing a few feet away. Tony just wandered from the room, but really despising the silence of the rest of the tower. Locking himself in his workshop should help.

 

“We’re all going to the pool.”  
“Okaaaaay,” returned Tony, drawing out the word for as long as possible.  
“Want to come?”  
“I’m not swimming.”  
“You don’t have to.”  
“Fine.”

 

At Steve’s request, Tony had shown his face poolside. He was laying out on a deck chair, hands flying through holographic schematics at ungodly speeds. The others were involved in some game or other, Tony really didn’t care. Never wishing to admit it but he took comfort in the shouting and general noise around him. Well until-  
“Ha, I bet Stark can’t swim,” Clint jeered.  
Tony’s neck snapped up, glaring at Clint with a basilisk stare.  
“Of course I can swim, idiot.”  
“We’ve never seen you.”  
“How do you think I got this Tower off the grid?”  
“You were in the suit, doesn't count.”  
Tony rolled his eyes so hard it hurt.  
“Yes I can swim, my father did not want the company heir to drown because someone tossed him into a puddle.”  
He could see Steve get that pinch between the eyes at his words but he was soon distracted by Clint again.  
“Prove it.”  
“I got nothing to prove to you Barton.”  
With that Tony waved away the holograms and left.

 

“He’ll be nice this time.”  
“No he won’t”  
“No he won’t,” Steve agreed, “but he won’t mock you so openly.”  
“I’m still not swimming.”  
Steve still looked hopeful. Tony sighed. That was the best he was going to get from Barton. Resigned to Steve’s puppy dog eyes, he simply picked up his tablet and followed Steve out the door.

 

He was sat relaxed by the water’s edge, toes trailing into the warmth of the pool. Tapping furiously at his tablet he became lost in his work, an easy enough task. He failed to notice a figure sneak up behind him. Only once the tablet was whipped out of his hands and a pair of hands planted firmly on his back did he realise something wasn’t right. A hard shove and he was tumbling into fathomless depths. Then the dam broke. The water swallowed him entirely, flooding his lungs. He could taste blood on his tongue, fast replacing the chlorine. Then his head was brought up, feeling the sharp pull on his hair as he was dragged up. He could taste the stale air of the cave, thick and dense. He was retching furiously, body trying to cough up water that wasn’t there. His body shuddered with each upheaval, his brain desperately trying to cough up water so he could get oxygen. Shocks rippled through him as the car battery touched the water running down his chest. A voice, so faint to his ears, feminine and calm clawing into existence.  
“He needs to steady his breathing or he’s going to pass out.”  
“How can we? He isn’t responding.”  
“We need to help him.”  
“Tony, you need to realise where you are. Tony, where are you?”  
He was retching violently, it felt like his stomach and lungs were turning inside out. Through it all he managed to choke out one word.  
“Cave.”  
“No Tony, you are in Stark Tower. Jarvis, whatever his favourite song is, play it.”  
Star-spangled man with a plan echoed through the cave, sounding tinny and fake. Slowly, painfully slowly, it filtered through. A slightly hysterical laugh, sharp to his ears, resounded through the room.  
“Really Tony, that one?”  
“Makes me smile, I’m not the master of zen like you,” he glanced at Banner with a wry grin.  
Gradually the room came back into focus, dripping into his perception. He was on his hands and knees, cold on the soaking tiled floor. His lungs burned as he breathed in. Coulson was crouched next to him, suit clinging to his body, hair plastered to his head. He was soaking. Clint was hovering over his shoulder, face pale and eyes wide and panicked. Nat was over Coulson’s other shoulder, equally pale but her face a perfect mask. Banner was next to Coulson, his skin a worrying shade of green. Thor was still in the water that lay at his feet.  
“Shit Tony, I’m sorry, I- I didn’t know. If I knew I never would’ve- What the hell was that?”  
Tony glared at Clint with the darkest look he could muster.  
“I don’t swim,” he stated calmly before pulling himself to his feet.  
A simple set of instructions followed. Remain on feet, walk calmly to the door, exit, enter kitchen, collect coffee, return to workshop.

 

“What the hell was that?”  
Steve didn’t turn, still staring at the door that Tony shut quietly behind him. He didn’t know what to do. Tony just left. Should he- should he try and speak to him?  
“That was… actually I don’t know what that was. A flashback of some kind maybe,” said Nat, her voice uneven. Not knowing always spooked her.  
“Should we follow him?” asked Steve, his voice sounding far off and distant.  
No one answered. No one moved. ‘How much more can Tony go through?’ thought Steve.  
“Thank you, for grabbing him,” Steve said, turning to Coulson, “I should have realised something was wrong.”  
Coulson just shrugged, still breathing heavily. No one else had realised when Tony didn’t come up. No one else thought it through. Coulson was the best at his job, diving in after Tony a second after his head dipped below the water, realising Tony was frozen. He dragged Tony to the surface, suit weighing his movements. Thor had dragged them both to safety. Steve had frozen, watched as his friend struggled, almost drowned.  
“It wasn’t in his file. He’s never spoken about his time in Afghanistan,” Coulson spoke, cutting through the depressing thoughts of the group.  
A cave in Afghanistan. A fear of water. Goddammit, how had Steve never- he’d never realised Tony had been- well had to go through that.

 

“Sir, your body temperature has dropped significantly, I recommend you change clothes and dry off.”  
The words of advice fell on deaf ears as Tony staggered across the workshop, dripping water everywhere. He could still feel the water in his lungs, weighing him down. Dry sands whipped against him abrasive against his skin. He staggered to the sofa and sank down. He couldn’t bring up the energy to care that the water on him would wreck the fabric. Nor did he have the energy to keep his eyes open. They slid shut as Dummy rolled over with a ragged blanket. Images flashed across his mind against the back of his eyelids like a grotesque film reel, too bright, too vivid. Bullets blasting through the wall, shredding apart people. Bright crimson splattering against the Humvee’s windows. Then hot ground as his feet pounded, running. A faint whirring, then his name before him. He signed his own death certificate. Then the ringing, the shrill sound in his ears blocking out all else. Except the warmth. The warm blood dripping down his chest as the pain kicked in. Gasping through it as people pulled him to his feet, bag over the head. Then the pain. A knife slicing through his skin, rough voices yelling at a man with his hands in Tony’s chest. Arms bound, legs bound, rendered immobile. He couldn’t move. Then a hand, hard and cruel on his shoulder. Pushing him down as his blood ran cold, barely able to breathe. A voice, deep and calm, reaching over him. A bald head, a cruel face smiling down at him. Then with the ease of picking a carton of milk out the fridge, he plucked out Tony’s heart. Tony stilled. Then darkness.

 

He didn’t know how long it took to come to. Or how he made it to the workbench. Every sound grated on his senses, every pounding on metal just echoed through the cave. He knocked over a box of screws and sunk to the ground. The sound of metal pinging on the concrete floor, ratatating like gunfire. He could do this. He needed to do this. Schematics, focus on schematics. The holograms flashed around him as he moved his hands, a rhythmic dance amongst the light. This he could do. This is all he could do.

 

Three days. He made it three days before exhaustion caught up with him. But he couldn’t give in. He needed to fix his suit, make it better. He needed to make sure he could help people. He needed to. He couldn’t help the soldiers. He would spend eternity with that weighing on him, a metaphorical weight but the pain was there, right behind the arc reactor. He needed energy, that was the only way he was going to beat this. What contains energy? Energy Drinks. Caffeine was always his friend.

 

It had been nearly five days. Five days and no one had seen sight nor heard sound of Tony.  
“Jarvis, where is Tony?”  
“Where he always is Captain Rogers, he is in his workshop.”  
“Is it- would it be okay for me to enter the workshop?”  
“Your access codes remain blocked unfortunately, please access the override code from Director Fury. And sir is not presently working on anything dangerous or explosive. As far as ‘okay’ it appears it would be conducive to sir’s current situation.”  
“Current situation?”  
“Sir is in his workshop.”  
That was all it took for Steve to run down the stairs. The AI’s clipped tone indicated he was hiding something, that Tony had asked him to hide something. He couldn’t see Tony anywhere as he punched in the memorised codes into the glass panel.  
“Tony?” he called out cautiously.  
The silence stretched out. Steve stepped cautiously through the workshop. Every inch of the floor was covered, metal sheets and screws and blueprints. An impossible amount of Red Bull cans littered the floor.  
“Tony, are you in here?”  
Of course he knew the answer, Jarvis was never wrong, but he needed to hear Tony’s voice. Still the silence remained. Steve listened hard, thanking his super soldier enhanced hearing for the faint sound of breathing. It was shuddering, erratic. Panicked. He followed the sound, leading him to a storage room. He opened the door, finding darkness, lit faintly with a blue glow. Enough to guide the way. Stepping inside he wove his way between boxes, climbing and ducking between metal sheets and shelves. He found Tony, crawled into the darkest corner. His hands were over his ears, fingers knotted in his hair. His eyes were squeezed shut, and he was rocking back and forth. His breathing was louder now, sharp gasps against his knees.  
“-t’s okay Tony, come back to me, okay, come back to me. You are in the Tower. You are in the workshop storage room. It’s okay, I’ve got you. You’re safe.”  
Steve was anchoring him to the ground, his hands bracing his shoulders. He seemed to realise Tony was back to himself, as some of the tension left him. The blue light of the arc reactor cast shadows across the hollows of Tony’s face, highlighting the dark circles under his eyes and the pale grey cast of his skin. Steve’s hands brushed up Tony’s neck, reaching for his hands. He laced his fingers in Tony’s, dragging his hands from his hair. They remained like that for an infinite moment before Tony’s eyes were wild and alive. He pulled away, fear and adrenaline still coursing through his veins.  
“The fuck are you doing here Rogers?” he spat out, humiliation and embarrassment like bile in his throat.  
“I came to check on you because no one has seen you in nearly a week.”  
“Why?”  
“What do you mean why? Because that means you haven’t been eating and, judging by the Red Bull, you haven’t been sleeping either.”  
“I’m fine, I don’t need you down here Rogers,” Tony bit out.  
Steve raised his hands, open and placating.  
“Okay Tony, okay. You don’t need us. But I- we- the team needs you. And we need you happy. So I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me what you need.”  
“What I need! What I need!” Tony shouted.  
“Yes, what do you need?” Steve replied calmly.  
“Just go.”  
That was it. Tony was good at this. Pushing people away. He was good at this, he had plenty of practise. Steve stood to leave, his steps careful and measured and small. Then he was stopped short. Fingers tightened around his wrist, grip verging on painful.  
“Don’t,” the voice was small, pleading, “sorry, please. Don’t go.”  
“Okay Tony, what do you want?”  
“I just want to sleep,” his voice was rough and almost tearful.  
Steve bent down in front of him, closing his eyes to give Tony a much needed second to wipe his eyes. Taking Tony’s rough shaking hands in his, Steve pulled him to his feet. Tony stepped forward, unsteady. He stumbled into Steve, faceplanting his chest. Steve just placed his arm around Tony’s waist, and offered a hand for Tony to steady himself with. Tony was leaning on him heavily, and he would never ever admit that it felt good. Together, they got Tony to the lift.  
“Jarvis, anyone in the Entertainments room?” asked Tony, words slurring on the edges.  
“Natasha, Clint, and Agent Coulson sir.”  
“Screw that, tell them they can either watch a film I pick or leave. And by leave I mean move out.”  
“Tony,” Steve chided, though there was no heat to the words since there was no truth in Tony’s.  
By the time they made it to the couch, the TV was flickering softly with the opening credits to Brave, and Tony’s eyes were struggling to stay open. His body would tense every few seconds, instinct fighting with exhaustion. Tony stared at the screen as Merida bit down on an apple. ‘a good film choice,’ Tony thought sleepily, ‘Clint likes her archery skills, Nat likes her independence, Coulson just doesn’t care.’ Clint’s head was in Coulson’s lap, Coulson’s hand drifting absently through his dirty blonde hair as he filled out paperwork. Nat propped herself up on Clint’s hip, the light from the TV dancing in her eyes. They all remained staring at the screen, which Tony really appreciated. Steve settled him down next to Natasha, Steve sat next to him. Their shoulders bumped amiably, and Steve’s hand rested on his. That was nice. An anchor he could cling to. And as his eyes fluttered shut, he literally clung, the physical presence staving off the nightmares.  
“Good work Steve.” Natasha was smiling, wide and genuine and so rare.  
Steve glanced at her, before a flush rose up his neck.  
“Yeah, I guess.”  
“No Cap, you did good. Stark can be difficult but you got him here,” murmured Clint.  
“They’re right, you did really well. I mean look at him. He hasn’t moved at all,” Coulson said, never looking up from his folder but his voice reassuring.  
Steve looked across to Tony, body slumped over and his dark hair a complete mess. His head had slid onto Natasha’s knees and she just smiled fondly at him. His legs had tucked up and planted on Steve’s lap. But his hand was still clasped in Steve’s. Natasha drifted off next, her head landing on Clint’s hip. Coulson was next, head lolling back against the couch. Clint glanced up then closed his eyes. His breathing steadied. Then it was just Steve watching as Merida defended her mother/bear from a bunch of soldiers. Then just like the rest of them, Steve drifted into a peaceful doze.

 

Steve woke with a start, pain shooting up his arm as fingers tightened around his hand like a vice. Tony’s face was pained, faint whimpers escaping his lips. Natasha’s eyes were open and alert, her body still half pinned down by Stark’s weight. Clint and Coulson were on their feet as Steve started to shake Tony’s shoulders. Tony’s whimpers petered out, and his breathing slowed. His eyes flitted open and a faint sigh of relief passed his lips.  
“Not the cave.”  
“Not the cave,” Steve agreed.  
Tony lifted himself off of Nat and, with his eyes half-mast, pulled Steve into his arms. Steve went whole-heartedly, wrapping his arms around Tony. Tony’s chin was tucked against his neck and Steve was glad of this otherwise he would have missed the whisper of a ‘thank you’ that Tony breathed out. He could feel Tony’s cheeks flame and smiled against his shoulder. He barely realised when he whispered ‘my pleasure’.

 

It took a few weeks before Tony attempted sleeping in places that weren’t the couch in the entertainments room. It never went well but he always tried. Alone. The entertainments room just worked because someone was always willing to watch a film with him. He didn’t know if this was deliberate or forced or what, but regardless he was grateful. Sleeping alone always led to nightmares of blood and bullets. The best nights were when Steve could watch with Tony. Those were most nights and Tony considered himself very lucky that Cap wanted to catch up on as much modern culture that he did. A couple of times he half woke to Steve spooning him, arm draped lazily over him. Natasha had promised pictures. For a king’s ransom. Which Tony could afford. More often than not they woke with their fingers laced between each other’s, neither relinquishing until the other had to get up. Then the hands were dropped hastily, guilty looks and awkward coughing to follow. Guttural Russian swearing ensued and once again Natasha found herself wishing these two idiots would wake up and smell the coffee, or in this case see the brain-dead limerence on their faces.


	4. The Great Avengers Bake-off

# Chapter 4 – The Great Avengers Bake Off

 

“Contestants, on your marks, get set, go!”  
Natasha blew a sharp whistle, watching as the two teams flew around the kitchen, flour immediately hovering in a vast cloud in the air. Natasha dragged Thor, Steve and herself from the room.  
“Come on, they have two hours and as per the rules we aren’t allowed to watch.”  
Steve was just staring in awe, wondering how his life had come to this. He had gotten used to the whole seventy-years-in-the-future thing, was dealing with technology and the idea of Norse Gods living with him and portals to other dimensions. What he was struggling to comprehend was the fact that there was currently two teams having an all-out battle in the kitchen. A battle consisting of who could bake the best cake. And how did this all start? No one’s surprised that it’s Clint’s fault.

 

Only an hour earlier they has all been settled in the entertainments room, enjoying a rare evening off. They all settled in to watch trash TV, Tony controlling the remote. He was flicking through the channels when Natasha quickly told him to go back. The BBC flashed back on screen, Mary Berry offering gentle advice on a sub-par gingerbread house. Within ten minutes everyone was either shouting abuse at contestants (“I could make a better cake than that blindfolded with my feet.” “Now that is just unhygienic.”) or drooling over cake (“I don’t know what a Battenberg is but I want one.” “I could get a proper one from Paul Hollywood if you want.” “No Tony.”) or arguing over what should go into the cakes (“Ew, who wants raisins? Go for the chocolate chips.” “You HEATHEN, it’s an oatmeal raisin cookie.” “Then they need to make it a QUADRUPLE CHOCOLATE COOKIE.” “Just because you don’t appreciate more refined tastes.” “Like that leaf water you drink Banner?” “Yes it is leaf water, that is what tea _is._ ”). They quietened momentarily when ‘Tasha cast a death glare at them all. But eventually Clint broke out into running commentary again.  
“No no NO. That is waaaay too much flour, you need to leave a little out for when you roll the dough.”  
Banner quietly murmured that she was actually doing fine and she still had an ounce margin for flour usage.  
“No trust me, I have baked like a billion cookies.”  
“But have you ever baked shortbread?”  
“Well no, but trust me.”  
“She’s just following a recipe.”  
“Cooking should be instinctual.”  
At this point Tony joined in. “Cooking is science, you can calculate it.”  
“Well you can’t.”  
Tony flushed a little, remembering his last cooking exploits. Cooking was difficult on ten minutes sleep across three days, okay?. Inventing Binge that resulted in several patents for Stark Industries. Even now though, the kitchen still smelt like cinnamon and garlic whenever someone used the oven.  
“I just grabbed the wrong spice”  
“You were having cereal.”  
“Your point?”  
“What kind of genius puts cereal in the _oven_?”  
“The kind that designs your weaponry. And I thought it was porridge.”  
“Okay, what kind of genius puts _porridge_ in the oven?”  
Tony looked adorably bewildered. “You are meant to cook porridge right? Like it’s always hot when I have it.”  
Steve’s shoulders were shaking with repressed laughter and Thor’s booming roars of laughter shook the room.  
“My point exactly, don’t quit your day job Stark. Stick with being the resident mechanic,” Clint grinned, a goddamn wide shit-eating grin.  
“Fine, we’ll have our own bake off then Barton. I will wipe the floor with you,” Tony challenged, eyes gleaming with mischief.  
“I want in, prove method is better than madness,” Banner chimed in.  
Nat had finally had enough. She paused the TV, glaring daggers at the arguing threesome. “Fine, two teams, me, Steve and Thor will judge. Now shut up.”  
“Coulson,” Clint whined.  
Coulson looked up from his folder, only gracing Clint with a silent nod before resuming.  
“Yes! You are dead Stark.”  
“Wanna bet?”  
“Bring it on!”  
“Fine, I win and you have to design me an entirely new bow.”  
“Oh please, I have been doing that while you were talking. At least make it a challenge.”  
“Okay then, I win and you have to give Steve a lap dance in front of the entire team to Wildest Dreams.”  
Tony’s eyes slid to Steve’s, both men turning a ridiculous shade of red.  
“Can I be left out of this?”  
“Nope, sorry Steve.”  
“You’re a dick Barton. And Taylor Swift? Really Clint?-“  
“Well you know it’s by Taylor Swift-“  
“-And if I win…” Tony turned around to Banner, both conferring, voices so quiet that not even Steve with his enhanced hearing could catch their whispers. Tony finally turned back, his face plastered with his neutral please-the-press smile. This was bad.  
“If I win, you have to tell us what happened in Budapest.”  
Clint blanched at that. Natasha was the one who saved his skin.  
“What happens in Budapest stays in Budapest.”  
No one dared argue.  
“Fiiiiine, do a strip tease in front of the entire team, sans Coulson, to Rebecca Black’s Friday.”  
Clint just shrugged and shook Tony’s extended hand.  
“You could have picked a worse song.”  
“At least I don’t have to be naked.”  
“Damn it! Can I add an addendum to mine?”  
“Nope too late.”  
Suddenly a pair of knives whizzed past. Each one skimming in front of their eyes and embedding themselves in the wall behind them.  
“Got it, sitting down right now.”

 

And that was that. Steve was now involved in a bet that would put severe strains on his sanity. Part of him wanted Tony to win, to prove he could cook and there was a science to it. He wanted Tony to be proud of what he created. But another part, buried deep deep down, was looking forward to when Clint would collect on his bet should Tony lose.  
“Are Banner and Coulson betting?” Steve asked curiously.  
Nat just shrugged. “I think they said something about Tea and a week’s worth of paperwork. They are acting more as supervisors apparently. Clint and Tony are really competitive and both snapped when the other tried to help.”  
Thor nodded gravely. “I do hope they do not come to blows over such a challenge.”  
Natasha just smiled. “Nah, it won’t come to that. Although they both might try sabotage. That’s where Bruce and Coulson come in.”  
“Son of Coul and the good Doctor are both honourable men. I am sure they will rise to the challenge admirably.”  
Natasha leant up and whispered in Thor’s ear, both turning to look at Steve grinning.  
“No.”  
Both just smiled at him innocently.  
“What Captain?” Natasha asked, dulcet tones dripping in feigned innocence.  
“You two are conspiring. No. This has to be fair.”  
“Aye good Captain. It should be fair. We only wish for everyone to be happy and enjoy the results.”  
Steve swallowed, fear and anticipation growing in equal parts his stomach. His doom was all but guaranteed.

 

“Team ScienceBros will beat you Barton.”  
“You’ve never baked in your life Stark, your science can’t save you now. Team BowTie will defeat you with our delicious baked goods.”  
“Team _BowTie_?” Tony scoffed.  
“Tony, you want another 3.2 grams of flour on the surface before you roll out the dough.”  
“Appreciated, what is the optimum temperature?”  
“Optimum temperature at 372.4 Fahrenheit, likely to be achieved in the next 10 minutes.”  
“Copy that Jarvis? Hold the temperature at 372.4 F.”  
“Is it cheating that he is using an AI to assist him?”  
Coulson just shrugged. “If you build one Agent I am sure Stark would be very happy to accommodate it into the proceedings.”  
“Too right Coulson.”  
The kitchen was filled with soothing sweet smells, apple and cinnamon mingling with the sharp scent of melted dark chocolate. The two hours flew by and by the end of it the kitchen looked like a flour bomb had exploded in it. Coulson was the only person who, against all odds, remained clean. Tony looked like he aged fifty years (shut up Pepper, of course it would take fifty years before he looked old) with his dark locks now a dusty grey, and Clint had chocolate hardened up one arm and was rinsing his tongue under the tap, having been goaded into partaking in the cinnamon challenge. Tony, grinning, high-fived Bruce only to have flour shower down on them both. Bruce shook out the book he was reading and he and Coulson wandered into the entertainments room for the judging. Tony plated up his cookies as Clint added the finishing touches to his cake. They covered their dishes in a shining cloche, ready for the grand reveal.

 

Everyone sat expectantly on the sofa as the men swept off the great silver domes. Apple and Cinnamon cookies and devil’s food cake stood in front of them. Everyone took a bite of each, and the groans started. It was delectable, the spice of the cookies complementing the rich sweetness of the cake, slight crunch and snap of cookies juxtaposed the soft dense cake. It was bliss. In reality it was perfection, one on its own would have been too much but they complemented each other beautifully. It should have been hard, nay impossible to pick a winner. _Should have been._ However when a Norse God and a Master Assassin are conspiring against you, you really don’t stand a chance. Sly glances passed between them, a slight nod on Natasha’s part.  
“If the contestants would leave the room while the judges cast their votes.”  
Silently and obediently Clint and Tony rose and left the room. Banner and Coulson made no movement, other than Bruce tossing a box of Lychee and Mango tea to Coulson. When questioning glances swept over him, he merely shrugged with a smile.  
“If the contestants would like to enter the judging room,” Natasha called, her voice raised and full of unholy glee.  
Natasha, Steve, and Thor were all holding cards to their chest. Natasha went first, revealing Clint as her chosen victor. Steve next, revealing Tony as his winner. Everyone looked at Thor, two waiting with bated breath. He turned his card excruciatingly slowly.  
“Come on man, hurry it up,” Clint cried, frustrated and impatient.  
Thor flipped over the card revealing-  
“YES, FUCK YEAH, SUCK IT STARK.”  
Tony’s shoulders slumped a little, disappointment evident in his subdued posture. Natasha and Thor both looked a little guilty at that, but it was Banner who pulled Tony out of his head before the self-deprecation could take hold too firmly.  
“Serious improvement on what you normally do Tony, and hey you didn’t set the kitchen on fire. Call it version 1.0 and try again.”  
Nat spoke up next. “Much better than I expected Tony, and Clint has just had more experience cooking. Plus he’s travelled all over the world so he basically cheated.”  
“These would complement Asgardian mead spectacularly. I would be honoured if you would allow me to present some to the Warriors Three and Lady Sif upon my next return to Asgard.”  
Tony offered up a reluctant smile. “Sure… Just not until they are perfect.”  
They could all see the determination that had set in the genius’ eyes and knew that the kitchen would be out of action for a while and a soup kitchen would soon have plenty of desserts to offer. Clint cleared his throat, regally staring down Tony, who had fixed him with a cold glare the minute he made a noise, silently daring him. Clint rose to the challenge.  
“The bet Stark,” he said loftily.  
“Yeah yeah, can you at least allow me the dignity of cleaning myself up a bit?”  
“I suppose I can allow you that much.”  
Winning did not suit Barton but Tony couldn’t help but grin. He looked so smug but with chocolate smeared around his mouth it was very difficult to take the man seriously.  
“Thanks, back in twenty.”

 

Twenty-two minutes later, the lights were dimmed to a soft glow, Tony entered wearing soft black jeans and a pale blue shirt, the blue light of the arc reactor shining gently through. The lights faded until the room was lit only by Tony. His eyes shone a luminous silver and gold in its light. His dark locks, soft and shiny, looked positively luxuriant in the light. His usually olive skin seemed to glow with the reactor, his entire being lighting up the room. His eyes flicked up to Steve, guilt flashing across them before his bravado fell into place. The music started off low and he walked over to Steve, his hips swaying with the rhythm. He placed his hands on the back of the couch, just behind Steve’s shoulders. He straddled Steve, his back arching as his chest only just pressed against Steve’s, bringing his mouth just close enough to Steve’s ear.  
“I am so sorry for this, really didn’t think I’d lose.”  
But Steve was having a hard enough time concentrating, a lap full of Tony taking up a large part of his brain. Swallowing the lump in his throat he managed to choke a ‘no worries’, which just caused Tony to look momentarily concerned. He dipped his lashes, looking up at Steve through them with a slight smile, shy and embarrassed before the usual panache returned with a vengeance. He grinded his hips gently, hands sliding onto Steve’s shoulders, then gliding lower, lightly down to his chest. Everyone was gaping, mouths open. Tony was… good. But good didn’t cover it. He was amazing. His movements choreographed, a display of pleasure for the recipient and flexibility and dedication of the dancer.  
“Чёрт возьми!” Natasha muttered.  
“I’m not even into that and I find that hot,” Bruce whispered to an awestruck Thor.  
“I have never seen this dance before but it is most captivating.”  
Clint and Coulson were both just staring, mouths open and eyes unblinking, unable to miss a moment of the show. Out of the two of them only Clint seemed able to speak.  
“I was wrong Tony, quit your day job. Become a lap dancer, you’ll triple what you make from Stark Industries,” came Barton’s choked jibe, only partially joking.  
Steve was breathing heavily, panting as he tried to hold onto his self-control. Tony leaned in close again, murmuring in his ear.  
“What next Captain?”  
Steve could only gape at Tony, who chuckled to himself.  
“Too much?” he asked at a more audible volume.  
Steve refused to think about Tony calling him Captain in bed, that would just cause havoc on the battlefield. About halfway through the song, Tony threw his head back, hips flush against Steve. He bent himself backwards, back flat against Steve’s legs. His abdomen pulled taut and Steve trailed his fingers up the solid muscle that lay beneath delicate skin. The muscles in Tony’s neck stretched as he leant his head back towards the coffee table. He picked up a cookie with ease and grace and lithely pulled himself up, hands on Steve’s waist. His eyes met Steve’s and he blinked innocently at him, wide-eyed and leaning into him. He lightly pressed the cookie to Steve’s lips, who opened obligingly and together they snapped the cookie in half. Steve used the last reserves of his will power not to chase Tony’s lips. Tony tilted his head up and to the side, leaving the expanse of his neck in clear view. He swallowed his small bite, Adams Apple bobbing as he did so. Steve watched him hungrily. Tony leaned in close, hips still grinding sweet and slow to the rhythm. Steve was only faintly aware of the song slowing, the regretfully final lines fast approaching. Tony's breath ghosting over the shell of Steve’s ear. Then the faintest whisper, teasing and torturous.  
“In your wildest dreams,” followed by sinful moans to match the timing of the song.  
With the beats of the song receding he slid languidly from Steve’s lap. He stood, took a sweeping bow and flopped onto the couch beside Steve.  
“So? How’d I do?”  
“I think I want to jump your bones,” replied Bruce with a smirk.  
“I definitely want to jump your bones,” the red-head said.  
“Urm, appreciated but no thanks Nat. You scare me, no offence.”  
“None taken,” she grinned.  
“A most beautiful dance man of iron, I did not know my Midgard-kin possessed such skill.”  
Grinning at the bizarre compliments, Tony cast his eyes to the couple lounging in the armchair.  
“Bedroom?”  
“Yes, now.”  
With that Coulson and Clint fled the room, Clint stripping off before he even hit the corridor.  
“What the hell was that?”  
“It seems they rather enjoyed your show.”  
“It was Barton’s fault. I’m sorry you got dragged into it Steve.”  
Steve’s brain had just enough time to reboot before Tony had turned his attention to Steve.  
“No no, it’s fine.”  
“I didn’t hurt you at all did I?”  
Tony’s hands began skimming across Steve’s chest and thighs, checking for any bruising, Steve making a quick grab for them before they felt anything incriminating.  
“Huh? I doubt you could hurt me Tony.”  
“Rude, I so could,” the dubious looks just made him grin, “what? I’m Iron Man I so could. But yeah. Serum and all that.” Tony yawned and stretched. “Right well after that somewhat eventful evening I am off to the workshop. Night guys, night Steve.”  
Tony leaned down, seemed to pull himself short, then grabbed a cookie and left. Steve made to get up, part of him wanting to follow Tony, only to have Natasha push him down. She was biting her lip, eyes lit with amusement.  
“Steve,” her voice high from held-back laughter, “you might want to stay put and think of, oh I don’t know, Grandma and church and animal slaughter for a while.”  
Thor was making a hasty retreat shoulders shaking in thankfully silent laughter. Steve just nodded, dry mouthed, pulling a throw from the back of the couch and covering his lap.  
“He didn’t-?”  
“No he didn’t, his own embarrassment was a tad more distracting. Night Steve.”  
She pressed a feather light kiss to his cheek, then walked slowly from the room, knowing and waiting for the inevitable.  
“I know you set this up, with Thor. And, well… I guess, thanks you. But it was dishonest. Tony’s cookies were amazing.”  
She smirked at him. “Yeah we rigged it, and you know exactly why they were so good right?”  
“Because Tony made them?” She sighed, sometimes it pained her to be dealing with such придурок. “Close enough, I’m going to bed.”  
And with that she left Steve thinking about dead puppies and a multitude of other gruesome things to _settle_ himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what inspired this one, I don't even watch the Great British Bake Off. I just really like Tony vs Clint, it will probably happen more often. Also I have nothing against Taylor Swift, I actually love her music.


	5. Campfire Stories and Nightmares

# Chapter 5 – Campfire Stories and Nightmares

 

“I. Don’t. Want. To.”  
Steve just sighed. They had been having this ‘ _discussion’_ for the better half of an hour. Steve had one ace left up his sleeve, one Tony could not refuse. Steve hated using it though.  
“As Team Leader, I say it is happening and you have to go.”  
Tony groaned long and loud and pathetic. “Camping though? Really? I’m all up for team building- scratch that, not even slightly up for it- but can’t we just, oh I don’t know, _NOT_ go to the middle of some fucking field and do trust falls or whatever you have planned. I don’t wanna go. Come on, I’m not even technically an Avenger, so not a team member.”  
That caused Steve to stop in his tracks. “What.”  
Steve’s reply was less a question and more a statement of anger. How could this kind, generous, crazy man not be part of the team? How could this man, who threw himself in harm’s way (more often than Steve would like, but it _did_ get them out of a lot of difficult situations) on a repeated basis, not be counted as an Avenger? Tony took it as a question anyway.  
“Yeah, after New York I was never added to the roster of Super Heroes. Still just Stark the Consultant. And as consultant I am not required to attend ‘Camp _super_ - _happy_ - _fun_ - _time’_ so you will have to just miss me, the volatile, self-obsessed, and doesn’t-play-nice-with-others, man-in-a-tin-can.”  
Everything was masked by a torrent of words but Steve could still see it lingering in Tony’s eyes, his masks slipping more and more around the team. The apprehension, the insecurity, the fear. He grabbed his phone- a custom Stark model not yet released to the public- and dialled Coulson. Stalking up and down, slippers slapping on the wooden floor of the corridor he waited impatiently for the man on the other end to pick up. Tony just stared wide-eyed and confused.  
“Coulson’s phone, Agent Barton speaking.”  
“Clint, is Coulson there? I need to speak with him.”  
“Ooooh Cap, what’s up? It sounds serious.”  
“Just get me Coulson.”  
“Testy. Hold on, he’s just got back in… Hey Phil. What, no coffee for me?”  
“No, sorry. This was the last one,” came Coulson’s tinny but no less deadpanned voice.  
“You break my heart,” he heard Clint reply melodramatically, “also the Cap wants to speak with you.”  
Steve could pick up the tired sigh on the other end of the line. “I just went out for coffee, why are you even answering my phone?”  
“Could have been important.”  
“Then they would call back.” Steve waited for the phone to be passed over, muffling and static as it passed from hand to hand. “Captain Rogers, what can I do for you?”  
“I have been informed that Tony was never made an Avenger,” Steve couldn’t help it, his voice sounded rude and irritated.  
The tapping of computer keys just sounded over the phone. He could hear Clint’s voice in the background.  
“What? Stark wasn’t made an Avenger. That’s just bull-“  
“Indeed he was not,” Coulson interrupted, ruthlessly cutting Clint off, “status was meant to be reviewed two years ago just after the Helicarrier was almost destroyed but was made low priority due to an Alien God attacking New York. Must have gotten lost in the system. Director Fury was meant to review it but I will take this particular burden off his shoulders,“ a few more key taps, “there, now Anthony Edward Stark is an Avenger.”  
“Thank you Agent Coulson,” Steve smiled warmly at his phone before hanging up.  
Tony just looked anxiously at him, hope and disappointment warring with each other as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. Steve grinned widely (and a tad smugly) at him.  
“Hope you know how to put up a tent Avenger.”  
For a moment Tony’s face lit with joy. Until the words sunk in.  
“I’m _so_ not going.”

 

“How does this even go in?”  
“You built a sentient AI and yet you can’t put up a tent. How do you function as a grown adult?”  
“Pepper.”  
There was a collective ‘ahh’ sound from the group as they realised their friend had only remained alive this long thanks to the strong-willed, endlessly patient, strawberry-blonde woman.  
“Have you never been camping before Tony?” asked Bruce, taking pity and untangling Tony from the cage of poles he trapped himself in.  
“Nope.”  
“Didn’t your parents ever take you?” Natasha called from inside her own perfectly made tent.  
“You’ve read my file more than I have, you tell me if you think my dad was the type.”  
“I see your point.”  
Steve knelt down next to the freed Tony and began explaining how everything was put together. He picked it up easily enough, only needing Steve to assist twice. Thor was just excited to use Mjolnir, as he hammered away at the pegs. Clint had taken to wandering around the edge of the clearing, darting in between trees and scooping up branches.  
“What’s he doing?” Tony asked Steve in a low undertone.  
“Firewood.”  
“Really? We are doing the whole happy camper thing?”  
“It will be fun.”  
“Statement or order?”  
“Both?” Steve asked, voice rising in self-doubt.  
Tony softened a little, smirk quirking up at the edges into a very doubtful, very unsure, but very real smile.  
“Sure it will Cap,” Tony said with unprecedented surety and faith.  
The entire camp was finally set up, all the tents circling a fire pit Clint was building in the middle. Running along the edges of the camp was a small stream, useful for fresh water. But surrounding them was dense shrubbery and thick trees. Tony handed out small watch-like trackers and GPS devices to everyone should they get lost. Clint scoffed at the idea of getting lost but Bruce and Thor both looked very grateful. Everyone’s GPS and watch strap was colour coded. Thor had yellow, Banner an acid green, Clint had purple, Natasha black, Steve a pale blue, and of course Tony’s was hot rod red.  
“Why is Steve’s pale blue?” Clint asked, looking curiously at the device.  
Natasha quickly stomped on his foot, and looked pointedly at him.  
“What?” he responded perplexed, “shouldn’t it be a darker blue to match his uniform?”  
Tony looked a little confused.  
“It matches Steve, doesn’t it?”  
And he looked so adorably bothered by the notion that Steve was quick to put him out of his misery.  
“It’s my favourite colour.”  
His favourite colour because it was a gorgeous arc reactor blue. Banner was fiddling with one of the guide ropes of his tent, looking like he was desperately wanted to say something. Thor was just grinning, looking from the blond to the brunet. Natasha took charge, quickly dolling out chores. Tony knew she was doing it on purpose when she put him and Steve together on duty for almost everything. Her reason when confronted was that Steve was, as team leader, the only one who could make Tony behave like an adult instead of a petulant child. Tony had thought about arguing that, until he realised it made him sound like a petulant child. They all soon settled into some activity or other. Natasha secured the perimeter, Thor was observing ‘Midgardian Wildlife’ (using all-speak to chat to woodland creatures), Steve sketched, Banner gathering specimens for his work, and Tony working on some thing or other. Leaving Clint utterly bored. He draped himself over Tony’s hunched shoulders.  
“I wanna play gaaaaaaaames,” Clint whined.  
“Well we hardly have Mario Cart out here,” Tony replied, not looking up from his notebook where he was doodling blueprints and equations from the makeshift bench (Steve had confiscated his phone and tablet upon setting the tents up).  
“I don’t mean the Wii or whatever one you redesigned to be _oh-so-superior_.”  
“The SHOW is superior.”  
“SHOW?”  
“Stark Holographic Orb of Whimsy. Going to be released after you guys help me beta test. But what did you mean if not Mario Cart, since you are the self-proclaimed king of it?”  
“I dunno… how about hide and seek?”  
Tony looked rather hesitant.  
“How do you play?”  
“You don’t know how to- STEVE CAN WE PLAY HIDE AND SEEK FOR TEAM BUILDING?” Clint yelled across the tiny clearing.  
“How does that help team building?” asked Steve without looking up from his sketchbook.  
“Tony has never played.”  
Everyone stopped what they were doing, Thor shoo-ing the deer away with a babbled word.  
“You’ve never played?” Banner asked, voice equal parts shock and amazement.  
“How have you gone through life never playing?” Steve quizzed.  
“Even Loki and I have partaken in the Midgardian game, having watched it on earth many years ago.”  
Natasha stared at him silently, her look judgemental and evaluating. Tony could feel himself shrink under her assessing eye, and the gaze of his teammates. He stood, shoulders drawn close to his ears and hands tucked into his pocket.  
“I had other things to do as a kid. Circuit boards, engines, robots, all of that.”  
“But didn’t you have any friends?” Clint asked with his usual bluntness.  
Tony, to his credit, didn’t shy away or try to lie.  
“Not really, not until I was a gawky fifteen year old at MIT. I never had friends my own age, even when I made friends with Rhodey he was still a couple of years older than me,” Tony said, resignation heavy in his voice, as though he had accepted long ago that having few people around him was all part of the job. Just another part of being a Stark. Steve’s mind was made up.  
“Right, we are playing hide and seek. Three teams, we’ll treat this as a training exercise for stealth ops. One team seeks. Tony, you go with Clint, he can explain the rules. Bruce, you go with Natasha. Thor, with me. We’ll seek. GO.”  
With his final yell, everyone darted into the trees, Clint dragging Tony in his wake.  
“1… 2… 3… 4… 5…”

 

It had been hours. Clint had explained the rules quickly. The seeker(s) count to one hundred while everyone else finds a place to hide. Then you wait to be found, and try not to give away your position. Clint had followed the stream until it joined a river then dragged Tony up a towering oak tree. They sat there, cradled in its branches and hidden by its canopy of lush green leaves, watching the sun rise and then sink on the horizon. Tony was starting to get antsy, having no one but Clint for company for hours.  
“What do you mean, no one but me? I‘m awesome.”  
“Out loud?”  
“Yup. Now shush. Meant to be quiet.”  
More hours passed, the moon hidden from view by leaves but high in the sky, casting silver light and dark shadows across their faces. Tony was running calculations in his head, his and Clint’s body huddled close together for warmth and meagre protection against the wind that broke through the branches. Clint’s eyes were wide and alert. He shifted a little, disturbing Tony from his theories.  
“I don’t think they’re coming.”  
“ _Ya’think,”_ Tony said, tone dripping with sarcasm.  
“We should head back.”  
Tony roused himself, limbs stiff with disuse in the cold night air.  
“What time do you think it is?” Tony queried absently as they climbed down the tree.  
“About one a.m. ish. Maybe two,” Clint called from above.  
Tony jumped the last few feet, landing with a soft thump in the undergrowth, looking up as Clint continued his descent. That limb wasn’t stable, Clint really shouldn’t grab it.  
“You might want to grab a different-“  
Clint’s usually sure footing slipped, and he came crashing through the branches. Tony lurched forward, Clint’s not inconsiderable weight plummeting into him. They both fell to the floor in a heap, Clint groaning as he lay where he fell on top of Tony.  
“Double Stripes,” Tony said on a breathless laugh.  
“Ass. Help me up, I think I twisted my ankle.”  
“I would but I am currently acting as your pillow, get _your_ _ass_ off me and I will.”  
Clint rolled over, freeing Tony. Tony got to his feet, and offered a hand to Clint. When Clint clasped it Tony yelped and tugged it from Clint’s grip.  
“Okay, not that hand.”  
He switched hands and pulled Clint to his feet, offering an arm to help him keep the weight off his leg. Clint just put the weight on his good leg and held Tony at arm’s length. The wind blew through the trees, silver moonlight casting Tony into stark relief.  
“Fuck! Tony. Jesus H. Christ.”  
Scratches, bruises, a rash from a patch of nettles, all fast forming and all ran up his arm, looping over his shoulder to, Clint undoubtedly assumed, spread across his back. He was holding his right wrist with a grimace that could freeze over hell.  
“You moron, you should have let me fall.”  
“Better two twisted joints, than one broken archer,” Tony bantered.  
“I wouldn’t have broken, you self-sacrificing bastard,” Clint retorted, giving Tony a shove on his good side.  
“Kinda my M.O. isn’t it? Nuke through a wormhole. I just like the attention,” he quipped.  
Tony was staring at Clint waiting for one thing to show itself.  
“Tony I’m really sorry, your hand, I mean, I just-“  
There it is.  
“-Shut Up Barton. You don’t get to feel guilty about this. It was my call to catch you. And if you _do_ get to feel guilty about this then I get to feel guilty about not saving your leg. In fact I think we’ll have to amputate it. Or we could just put you out of your misery now. Like a horse,” Tony grinned.  
Tony logic. The complete nonsense that always seemed to defeat everyone.  
“This isn’t a trade-off-“  
“-Shut up Barton,” Tony repeated god-naturedly, “but I can use this to my advantage I guess. Get my phone back from the Cap and we’ll call it even.”  
Clint grinned at him and shook his good hand.  
“Done.”  
“Easier said than done. It’s like you’ve never even met Cap.”  
“It’s like you forget my job before Avenging was a spy who got stuff without people noticing.”  
“ ‘Got stuff’, I feel like you dumbed that down.”  
“I did, I am speaking for my target audience.”  
“ _Me_? _You_ mean _me_? I’ve got like six times your IQ bird brain.”  
Tony looked around, trying to gain his bearings in the dark.  
“You know the way back? I’m hungry.”  
“Six times my IQ but no sense of direction. Yeah, come on.”

 

Crisp dawn light had settled over them when they finally got within hearing distance of the camp.  
“Just an hour Steve, you aren’t going to be any use to them if you collapse from exhaustion.”  
“They’ve been out there all night, we need to find them.”  
“And we will but Cap, you need to sleep. Thor is already searching from the air.”  
“Tony gave us trackers, why didn’t we take them?”  
“It might ruin the game if you can track the people who hide.”  
“It’s cold, we need to find them before they freeze.”  
“And the sun is rising. It’s Clint and Tony, they’ll be fine.”  
Natasha’s speech would have been more convincing if there wasn’t a slight quiver in her voice. Thor landed down gently beside them.  
“I am sorry my lady Natasha, I could not see them,” Bruce was turning a considerable shade greener, “I could ask Heimdall to find them.”  
“No need for that Greased Lightning, we are here. Does this mean we won hide and seek?”  
Tony and Clint limped onto the campsite only to be engulfed by one super soldier and one super assassin. Natasha was firmly reprimanding Clint in what sounded like very abusive Russian, but Steve had just stayed silent, arms wrapped tightly around Tony and refusing to let go.  
“Uh Cap, I know you are mad but suffocation of a team member is not a good disciplinary technique.”  
“Thank god you are okay,” Steve breathed into Tony’s shoulder.  
“C-Cap- h-hey cap- hellooooo?”  
“I’m not mad Tony.”  
Something about his tone sent shivers up Tony’s spine, pure warmth and affection flooded his chest. Well the affection did, the warmth was Steve’s as Tony was shivering against his chest, threadbare tank top and ratty sweatpants doing nothing for keeping him warm.  
“Tony, you’re freezing.”  
“No s-s-s-shit sher-l-l-lock,” Tony chattered, teeth biting together.  
The fire had long since died, no more than a pile of ash and charcoal, but still Tony moved close to it, as though hoping for some echo of warmth. Steve just pulled him back into his arms, into his lap as they sat on the log that was their makeshift bench. Natasha was doing the same with Clint, draping her sweater and arms around him. Steve stripped himself of his leather jacket and wrapped it around Tony. Completely dwarfed by the fabric, Tony curled in on himself and into Steve’s chest, the utter lack of protest at the treatment more cause for concern than any other symptom. Bruce was kneeling in front of Barton, checking his leg despite Barton’s demands that he take care of Tony first. Thor was building another fire, which was soon roaring merrily. A wave of heat washed over them all, Tony letting out a contented sigh. Soon he uncurled and began moving towards the fire, instinct seeking warmth but not realising the danger and he almost climbed on top of the pile of logs. Steve grabbed him back, settling closer to the fire with Tony just making high pitched whines in his arms.  
“Tony, how long has it been since you slept?”  
Tony, when firing all cylinders, wouldn’t, oh I don’t know, try and climb into a fire.  
“Dunno, ask Jarvis.”  
“Jarvis isn’t here right now so I am asking for your best guess,” Steve said with the patience of a saint.  
“I don’t guess, estimate perhaps, but guessing. There is no science in guessing. I would not deign myself to guess even if the President himself demanded it. No, I am a man of science and men of science calculate, we theorise, we estimate, but we never guess,” Tony said, voice more awake and less interrupted by the chatter of teeth.  
Everyone looked at Bruce for confirmation.  
“He’s not wrong. And if that’s his current stage of babbling I’d say we’ve passed hour 70.”  
There were a few notable stages in Tony Stark’s lack of sleep scale. Directly after sleep and pre-coffee (usually the first two hours) you had a very tired, very unintelligible genius who couldn’t even tell you the date. After coffee he functioned like a regular genius until about 36 hours of wakefulness. Then he reached manic tiredness, usually coming up with the best inventions around here. And some of the weirdest (honestly why would Steve even need an umbrella/inflatable dinghy in one). Manic tired usually only lasted until hour 48. Then came stubborn tired. This only ever lasted until all projects from manic tired were complete but was characterised by an absolute adamant desire to not sleep. If something didn’t work in stubborn tired, Tony would dissolve into hysterical tired. This usually lasted the longest (the record being two days) and usually involved theories that Jarvis was out to get him, that Dummy was trying to poison him (not entirely inaccurate but certainly the motor oil smoothie wasn’t on purpose) and that Clint and Natasha were conspiring to kidnap Butterfingers. Hysterical tired was only ever resolved when Tony was dragged to bed, collapsed from exhaustion, or proceeded into the final stage. The final stage was known as Point 72 by the team and nothing could characterise it. Tony went from mildly unpredictable to there was no telling what he’d be like. Most times he would be pliant and relax, allowing himself to be dragged or, if need be, carried upstairs. However there were times, often enough that the team had to be on high alert and SHIELD had a contingency plan, that Tony would do something completely unexpected. One time it resulted in a paintball match between himself, Dummy, Butterfingers and You. Another time had him hacking into SHIELD (again) to get past Fury’s spam filters to get Jarivs to send him eyepatch tech. No one knew what eyepatch tech consisted of except a very unintelligible Tony. And there was one very memorable time that Tony felt it very necessary to redecorate the entire living room in Christmas decorations. In August. If stubborn lasted long enough he could often skip hysterical and go straight to Point 72. Usually adrenaline was the only thing that kept Tony awake by Point 72. But nothing had happened that would have caused Tony to need adrena- wait are those bruises?  
“What happened?” Steve asked.  
Tony began mumbling something, eyes unfocused and staring through Steve. That was disconcerting. Banner began checking Tony over, fast and efficient as always.  
“Bruising on his right side. Mild rash, should be gone in a few hours. Twisted right wrist, stop him writing for a day and it should be fine.”  
“We followed the stream to an oak tree for hide and seek. When we decided we’d won hide and seek, we climbed down. I slipped, Tony caught me and stopped me breaking my neck but got banged up in the process. Honestly I’m as amazed as you are that he is still awake.”  
Steve leaned closer to listen to Tony’s murmurs.  
“Can’t sleep. Cold. Can’t sleep. Cold. Can’t sleep. Cold.”  
His body was considerably warmer but still little shivers ran through him. The day grew brighter and the sun was warm on their backs.  
“How about we discuss our origin stories?” Clint suggested, bored once more since Natasha hadn’t allowed him to move since his return.  
“Origin stories?” Banner asked curiously.  
“How we came to be who we are. Cap, you first.”  
“Really? Everyone knows mine. I tried to enlist in the US Army but kept getting turned down for health issues until a German Scientist offered me a chance. He asked if I wanted to kill Nazis, I said I didn’t want to kill anyone. I just don’t like bullies,” Steve paused before continuing, “I had my _treatment_ and became Captain America. Took down Hydra then crashed a plane into the Arctic Ocean to stop a load of bombs destroying New York. Froze, woke up, then worked for SHIELD until a certain God came to visit. You know the rest.”  
Tony was still babbling against Steve, enhanced hearing catching ‘you okay?’ and worried eyes looking up at him. He nodded and smiled but the eyes never shifted their gaze from his. It felt incredibly intense and had Steve blushing. He could have sworn his hearing picked up ‘blush’s cute’ but wrote it off as him mishearing. He had missed half of Banner’s story in his observation, yeah let’s call it observation, of Tony.  
“So apparently my blood had infected a drink and this guy was tearing through New York. I came back. And well, that’s how I broke Harlem.”  
“Protected.” It was the first clear word Tony had said in a while, staring straight at Banner, “protected Harlem.”  
Bruce looked happily embarrassed.  
“Thanks Tony.”  
Tony smiled sleepily and curled up closer into Steve’s jacket and into Steve. Natasha grinned at him knowingly, while Clint just smirked at Tony. Banner and Thor were exchanging looks and mouthing what looked like ‘I’ll take next week’ and ‘can’t, it’s Darcy’s’. Then Thor began his story.  
“My brother and I were both told from a young age that we were both born to be king but only one of us would claim the throne of Asgard. While my father lavished attention on me, training me to be a warrior and king, my brother was often cast to the side and forgotten,” Thor looked deeply saddened, “I often wonder had I included him more, or had people not mocked his talent at magic then perhaps he might not have tried to do the deeds he did. Upon making the poor decision to attack Jotunheim I was cast out and stripped of my powers. Only recently did I learn that Jotunheim was when Loki learned of his true parentage. He turned his back on my father for lying to him for centuries. My father fell into the Odin Sleep and Loki rose to the throne. The Warriors Three and the Lady Sif had grown suspicious of his actions and so came to search for me on Earth. The New Mexico incident occurred as he sent the Destroyer to kill me. I regained my powers and on its defeat we returned to Asgard. Loki tried to destroy the realm he came from, tried to sever himself from the creatures Asgardians had called monsters since time began. He unleashed the Bifrost upon Jotunheim. I destroyed it, preventing my return to Earth and my return to the lady Jane for the longest time. He tried to convince me not to so that I might see her again. I hope it was out of affection. The bifrost was destroyed and Loki let himself fall into an abyss. I thought him dead until Heimdall told me of his workings on Earth. Found him working against his will for the Chitauri-“  
“That was against his will?”  
“Well of course. My brother was influenced by the staff as much as we were.”  
A group flinch as the remembered the argument that almost tore them apart. A hand lightly patted Steve’s chest and only the faintest murmur of ‘special before bottle too’ followed by a very guilty expression. Steve leaned over and whispered softly ‘amazing outside of the suit’ and was rewarded by a small, doubtful, sleepy smile. Potatoes were chucked into the burning embers to cook for lunch, while the stories continued. Just before Clint’s turn Tony spoke loud enough for the group to hear him again.  
“The pigeon only joined because Coulson chucked bird seed at him.”  
The group laughed.  
“Close enough, Nat, your turn.”  
“Clint,” Natasha said warningly.  
“Fiiiine. But this will be said very quick. Not-nice father, dead parents, joined a travelling circus, taught how to aim, SHIELD talent scouted me and yeah. Joined the military branch then they wanted me for more covert stuff. Joined. Me and Thor go waaay back even if he doesn’t know it. I was assigned New Mexico buddy, had orders to shoot your ass. Didn’t want to, even without your powers you are a damn impressive fighter. Assigned to watch Selvig and the Tesseract. Then a lot of not nice stuff happened…”  
He trailed off, that look of guilt returning to his face. A stick was thrown at his face, which quick reflexes and muscle memory saved it from hitting him. They looked down at the attacker, a frowning Tony looking more awake than before.  
“Barton, that guy was a maniac, no offence Thor, but he tried to use the glow stick of destiny on me too,” everyone stared at Tony in shock, “I did not tell you that did I? Right. Well he failed obviously, arc protected me. When he failed he threw me out of a window. Ruined my tower,” he said bitterly, “you couldn’t fight it unless you have a load of shrapnel in your chest and a huge fucking magnet trying to stop it crawling into your heart,” everyone flinched when Tony spoke so easily of his injuries, “so know now that no one here blames you, not me, not Steve, not Nat, Bruce, or Thor. Coulson definitely doesn’t. So you need to forgive yourself. Do it or I will strip you of your video game privileges.”  
“Nooooo,” Clint howled, “I need my GTA fix.”  
“GTA, what are you, fifteen? Play some Zelda once in a while. Nat, your turn.”  
She swallowed, looking uncharacteristically nervous.  
“Orphaned as a child I was inducted into the Red Room training program. One of 28 girls. We were taught how to fight,” She said voice kept forcibly even, “I had killed multiple times before I hit puberty, all while under the guise of a training ballerina. Not that I was ever a ballerina, false memories planted. I can still dance based of the memories though. Even now I’m not even sure which memories from that time are mine and which are theirs. I ended up with the KGB but after a bad mission they abandoned me and tried to erase me. I got on SHIELDs radar in a bad way. Clint was sent to kill me but instead he helped me fight off the KGB and brought me in to SHIELD. He saved me,” she looked at Clint with pure respect and affection, “I trained with SHIELD and eventually they trusted me enough to send me on ops. I ended up at Stark Industries as Natalie Rushman,” she paused a little to listen to Tony’s almost asleep grumbling of ‘neck stabbing spider’ then continued, “where I was tasked to investigate Mr Stark’s growing erratic behaviour. Upon discovering the heavy metal poisoning,” again everyone but Natasha cast shocked looks at Tony.  
He yawned widely, while Bruce looked concerned.  
“You never told us…”  
“Didn’t need to. Replaced the palladium eventually. You’ll hear about it during my turn.”  
“Anyway,” Natasha continued, “I stabbed him in the neck with Lithium Dioxide and became Pepper’s PA once he made her CEO. Then Tony will tell you the rest.”  
Everyone looked expectantly at Tony who just stared longingly at the food in the fire.  
“Are the potatoes done yet?”  
“Huh? Oh yeah, food’s done.”  
Steve fished them out of the fire, setting it on a plate and loading Tony’s with butter. Everyone else got theirs from the fire and stuck in. Tony was finished before the others even started. His eyelids started drooping after finally feeling warm and well-fed.  
“Hey, you can’t sleep, you owe us a story,” came Clint’s yell across the fire.  
“Let him sleep, unless you want to deal with a now approximately 74 hour sleep deprived Stark,” was Banner’s response.  
“ ‘m n’tired,” Tony slurred stubbornly.  
Rousing himself and finally extracting himself from Steve’s arms and lap he flopped onto the wooden log and sat rigidly.  
“Where to begin… So Stark Industries used to make weapons, bombs for the military. Although I was technically in charge I was far more preoccupied with gambling, drinking and whoring my way across America, so Obie- Obadiah Stane –ran the business for me. I was nicknamed the ‘Merchant of Death’. I went on a business trip to Afghanistan, sent by Obie, to display the Jericho. The first and last Jericho to ever be used. I made sure of that,” he said darkly, “on the return journey from the weapons display, the convoy was attacked,” Tony closed his eyes, visibly shuddering, “the soldiers assigned to protect me were killed.”  
Steve’s mind was cast back to that day on the helicarrier, echoes of ‘we are _not_ soldiers’ resounding in the empty room.  
“I guess in my confusion I thought I should run away, get somewhere safe. I left the vehicle. Took cover behind a rock or something when a bomb landed at my feet. Literally with my name on it. Never known irony quite like it. It detonated before I could get away, piercing my armour, and hello chest full of shrapnel. Then came the surgery. Yinsen saved me,” he spoke with such reverence, so much respect and regret infused into the name that everyone could feel it thick in the air, “installed an electromagnet and car battery. After I was deemed alive and healthy enough to be of use, my captors demanded I make them a Jericho. I refused. They didn’t take too kindly to that. In the end they were very persuasive. So I made a weapon. Maybe not the one they wanted but I made them a fucking weapon,” rage radiated off Tony, and intense heat banishing any sense of tiredness from the man, “so the Mark 1 suit was created. Needed a reactor and considering I didn’t think I’d make it out of there I used Palladium. It did its purpose, destroyed all of my weapons that the bastards got their hands on. Got me out of there too which was a bonus. Just me though,” he added sadly, not meeting anyone’s eye, “made it back home, built a new suit and upgraded the arc, killed a few more terrorists groups, and found out it was Obie- Obadiah selling my weapons to them. The things I built to protect those soldiers. He tried to copy the Iron Man suit but couldn’t recreate the arc. So-“ he made a popping sound, and pulled out an imaginary arc reactor from his chest to the gasps of the group, “Dummy got me my old arc reactor. Pepper almost got killed by Obadiah. I had involved her, I almost got her killed,” Tony looked close to breaking down, Steve laid a tentative hand on Tony’s, which were clenched into shaking fists at his side. He looked down at the hand and smiled gratefully at Steve for the anchor. Deep breath and he continued. “We fought, I killed him. Announced I was Iron Man to the world. That was dumb, put Pepper in more danger. Realised I was dying of Palladium poisoning. Made Pepper my CEO, gave away half my stuff, drove a car on the Circuit de Monaco. Yeah that was a bit of a death wish. I guess I thought if I was going to die I wanted to die in a cooler way than heavy metal poisoning. But Ivan Vanko attacked. Had arc reactor technology, his dad worked on it with my dad. Took him out with the Mark 5. He went to jail, supposedly died there but lo and behold he did not. I had a birthday party which resulted in a destroyed house and Rhodey taking the War Machine suit. I’ve had worse parties though…” He paused thoughtfully, “Hammer, the dick, hired Vanko to make him Iron Man suits. Vanko made him drones instead, which he took control of and tried to kill everyone. Me and Rhodey blew him up, along with an unfortunate Arboretum. Then the tower, then Loki, you all know the rest.”  
Everyone just stared at him, mostly horrified with one look of exasperation (Natasha).  
“Tony, you left out a rather crucial detail.”  
“I did?”  
She looked pointedly at the glow in his chest.  
“Oh right. I discovered, scratch that, I rediscovered how to synthesise Vibranium. Makes a great non-toxic reactor core. Don’t worry, not dying of heavy metal poisoning.”  
Banner let out a hysterical laugh.  
“Only you would leave out the fact you aren’t dying.”  
“Well I do love a touch of drama. And anyway-“  
They never found out what Tony was going to say next as he slumped sideways into Steve, collapsed from the physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion of the last few hours.  
“He never told Pepper he was dying,” Natasha said softly.  
“What?!”  
“He didn’t want to worry her. He’s used to dealing with everything alone. I’m glad he’s coming to trust us.”  
“He is?” Clint asked in surprise.  
She smiled at him. “You see it in the little things. He taps the arc reactor when he’s nervous or anxious. Based on what he’s just told us, I think it’s to remind himself that it is still in there. He’s been doing that around us a lot less. Also, the whole inviting-us-to-live-in-the-tower-with-him thing.”  
“I thought Fury pushed that though?” Steve asked.  
“No, Stark asked if Fury thought it was a good idea, Fury essentially asked us for Stark. Tony designed all of our rooms personally during the tower repairs.”  
“Oh,” was all Steve or anyone could think to say.  
Steve clearly didn’t know Tony as well as he would like. He picked up the sleeping genius and slid him into his tent, pulling the sleeping bag and pile of blankets over him. The sleeping genius still clung to the leather jacket wrapped around him. The rest of the team sat by the dying embers until it was dark enough to call it a night.

 

Freezing water and iced over planes filled Steve’s dreams. He was trapped beneath the ice, hammering against it and trying to break through to breathe in sweet oxygen. There was a burn in his lungs begging for sweet relief. Suddenly the ice shattered like thin glass, a dark haired head breaking the water’s surface. He was as desperate as Steve, holding his breath until bubbles burst through his lips. He closed his eyes against the icy sting, against seeing the last of his breath escape him. The scarred hand holding him down yanked him back up, giving Steve a chance to breathe. The man was sucking in breath, water drenched hair plastered to his face, lips blue from the cold. His once neat goatee an unkempt mess and his olive skin that hadn’t been dunked underwater was dusted with sand. His warm chocolate eyes met Steve’s for a moment before they were shoved back beneath the water. He was held down now, Steve forced to watch as the bubbles stopped, trying to will the man not to breathe in, to keep fighting. The man’s lifeless body was pulled from the water, Steve scrambling out after. The man who held him down paid no heed to Steve, simply disappearing behind a door. Steve cradled the body close, feeling for a pulse, a breath, any sign of life.  
“Tony,” Steve jerked awake with the man’s name on his lips, the sense of loss real as the dream faded away.  
He felt frozen to the bone. Barely thinking he padded out of his tent, grass damp from dew under his feet. The urge to confirm, to check it was all a dream overwhelmed him. He pulled back the fabric of Tony’s tent, relieved to see the man sleeping soundly, drooling slightly into a pillow. Steve sighed and closed his eyes, letting this sight wash away the remnants of the nightmare.  
“Bad dream?”  
The voice startled his eyes open, looking down at the bed-tousled Tony at his feet. He nodded, hoping Tony didn’t push further.  
“Ice?”  
Again Steve nodded. Tony just shuffled across the tent floor and threw back the covers there. Steve, seeing the invitation, sat next to him. Tony pushed him into lying down position, tossed most of the blankets at him then curled up back to sleep. Steve settled down, the warmth of Tony’s back pushed against his side, real and tangible.  
“Stop thinking about it. It doesn’t help.”  
“Yeah I know. This one just freaked me out.”  
“Want to talk about it?”  
“Not really.”  
Tony turned to face Steve, the blue of the arc lighting up both of their faces. Tony was looking at him curiously, never questioning Steve though.  
“Want me to talk? I could bore you to sleep with my tech talk,” he grinned in the darkness.  
“It wouldn’t bore me, and I doubt I could shut you up if I wanted,” Steve smiled back. Soon Tony was jabbering softly, a soothing white noise along with the whirring of the arc reminding him that the man next to him was alive, warm heart beating beneath its metal shield. The sound lulled Steve into sleep.

 

It was warm, comfortable, and too close to what Tony wanted. They were curled up in Tony’s bed, warm and safe in the tower. Steve leaning over him, pressing soft kisses to his lips, his jaw, his neck, his chest. Suddenly a strong hand pinned him to the bed, the other stroking the arc with reverence, with desire, with wanton lust. Not lust for him. Lust for that nightlight in his chest. SHIT. A blink and Steve was replaced by Obadiah, Tony frozen in place beneath his cruel grip. Hand changing to metal claw and pulling the heart from Tony. Although it was impossible Tony could literally hear the arc beating. Metal heart for the tin man. Tony woke in cold sweat, lurching out of the tent at a full run. Steve jerked awake at his movement, cursing the dew as he slipped on the grass, losing Tony from his sight. He grabbed his GPS, hoping a praying Tony was wearing his tracker. After hide and seek, Natasha demanded it mandatory for everyone to wear them. He turned on his GPS, checking for Tony. Everyone but his was dotted around Steve, in their respective tents. Trying to figure out how to work the damn device he tapped a spider symbol at the bottom of the screen. It centred on Natasha’s GPS icon. There was an arrow, a hammer, a test flask, and a blue circle. He tapped the blue circle and located it to near the river. Checking his own tracker was still firmly on his wrist, he took off trying to locate Tony.

 

Steve was perplexed. Actually no, he wasn’t. He had long passed perplexed, anxious, worried. He was having a nice long vacation in UTTER TERROR. He had reached the spot that his GPS said Tony was, only Tony was nowhere to be found. Nor his tracker. So he hadn’t taken it off. He leaned against the large oak tree close to where the stream joined the river. An oak tree by the river. Something sounded familiar. Clint’s voice spoke in his head ‘We followed the stream to an oak tree for hide and seek. When we decided we’d won hide and seek, we climbed down’. Climbed down. Steve looked up and sure enough Tony had curled up in the uppermost branches, blue glow just in view through the leaves. He was clasping his right arm to his chest, left hand tapping the arc reactor. Steve began the careful ascent to Tony, branches groaning under his weight. “Tony,” he called softly, not wanting to startle him and have him fall out of the tree. Tony’s eyes snapped to his, focusing slowly.  
“Blue, good it does match.”  
“What matches Tony?”  
“Eyes. Blue,” he waved a hand down to Steve’s pocket, GPS just visible.  
“Yeah, you picked a good colour for me. Want to come down?”  
Tony shook his head.  
“Why not?”  
“I can’t.”  
“Why?”  
“It’ll get taken.”  
Steve looked down at where both the uninjured and injured arms were crossed protectively over the circle of light.  
“Is that what you dreamed about? I won’t let anyone take it from you.”  
The arrhythmic tapping stopped and Tony’s gaze was fixed intently on Steve’s.  
“Can you promise me that?” Tony asked.  
“I promise to the best of my ability I will stop anyone trying to take your arc reactor, or hurt you for that matter.”  
Tony stared at him again, assessing whether he could believe him. He eventually nodded.  
“I still can’t get down.”  
“Why not?” asked Steve, genuinely confused as to what reason Tony had come up with now.  
Tony just held up his right wrist, eyebrows raised at Steve.  
“Oh. Right. Climb onto my back.”  
“What?”  
Tony was blushing ear to ear and thanking the heavens it was dark.  
“You need to get down, I’ll carry you.”  
Tony tentatively climbed onto Steve’s back, wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulders. As soon as Steve began to climb down Tony’s grip slid into a choke hold.  
“T-tony, I need to brea… breathe to get us down.”  
The arms loosened slightly but Tony whimpered into his back.  
“Are you scared of heights?”  
“No.”  
“You fly in a suit and build a forty storey tower but you are scared of heights.”  
“NO I AM NOT SCARED OF HEIGHTS.”  
A few birds flew away at the yell.  
“Then what? Oh… falling.”  
A nod against his back, reluctant.  
“I won’t tell the others.”  
“Thanks,” Tony whispered into his back, breath warm.  
They climbed down the rest of the way in silence, Steve careful with his burden. Tony, for his larger than life personality, felt oddly small on Steve’s back and a strong desire to just protect him swallowed him whole. He continued carrying Tony to the campsite, the man half-asleep on his back.  
“Tony, if you have a dream like that again can you come find me? Don’t run off again.”  
A noise of acknowledgement and agreement from behind him.  
“And if I have a dream like mine again can I come find you?”  
A more enthusiastic noise of acknowledgement and agreement.  
“Thank you.”  
He settled Tony back into his tent, collapsing down next to him.  
“Mind if I stay here tonight? Your tent is warmer.”  
In response Tony just levered him down with his good hand and threw it across him to stop him getting back up.  
“Thanks Tony.”

 

Steve woke slowly for the first time in years, warmth engulfing him. Weight was pressed against his chest, and he opened his eyes. He didn’t know whether to be glad or embarrassed that what happened the night before. Tony was sprawled across his chest, back bent awkwardly by the change in height. He had somehow pulled several blankets on top of him during the night, cocooned in darkness and warmth. Steve pulled back a cover to make sure Tony could breathe. Tony stirred, blinking hazily up at him.  
“Oh yeah, not a dream,” Tony said, internal thoughts said out loud.  
“Not a dream. Thank you for letting me stay last night though.”  
Tony yawned.  
“No big deal Cap. You had a nightmare, and my experience says having someone else around after a nightmare helps. Plus I knew I could bore you with my technobabble.”  
Tony refused to mention his own dream again and Steve didn’t ask. Bruce poked his head through the tent entrance.  
“Breakfast in five, Clint’s cooking.”  
Steve and Tony dragged themselves out of the tent of warmth and into the refreshing morning air, the smell of bacon and eggs hitting them in the face when they breathed in.  
“Has anyone won yet?” Thor asked in an attempted low undertone.  
“Won what?” Clint, Steve, and Tony asked in unison.  
“No, no one has won yet,” replied Natasha without answering the other question.  
Clint tossed Stark’s phone at him, looking triumphant.  
“By god he did it.”  
“Never question my skills. We’re even?”  
“Definitely,” Tony said with glee, instantly opening up schematics and chattering away to Jarvis.  
Everyone began packing up their tents except Tony who had sunk to the floor cross legged, leaving Thor to dismantle both his own and Tony’s tent.

 

They were in the car back, Steve driving with Tony sat in the front next to him.  
“So no more team building camping trips,” Steve said. There were protests ringing in the car.  
“BUT I WON HIDE AND SEEK, I ACTUALLY BEAT NATASHA FOR ONCE!”  
“I also had fun partaking in the midgardian game.”  
“I thought it was helpful,” Bruce said quietly, “Natasha taught me a lot of useful information.”  
Tony was the only one that remained silent, looking a bit put out. He soon became lost in thought again, staring out of the window until Clint slapped the back of his head.  
“You convince Steve to do camping again.”  
“Why me?”  
“Because you are the only one that can,” replied Natasha.  
He took a deep breath, as though steeling himself up to do something difficult. Maybe he was finding this difficult. He returned his gaze to the window.  
“It was fun, I needed it. It was nice to have nothing expected or demanded of me, nothing I had to work on. Even if I was working no one could tell me what to do and when. I feel… actually never mind.”  
“No, go on,” Natasha demanded. Tony looked reluctant but continued because you couldn’t go against Natasha.  
“I work. A lot. I usually end up missing the communal meals and team activities and never really get time to hang out. I know it’s my fault but I can’t shut it off. I get stuck in my head. But with no tech and the games and yeah. I guess I feel closer now. Part of the team. It was nice to just hang out with… friends… So yeah, I liked camping.”  
The word ‘friends’ was said tentatively, waiting for someone to deny it. When no one did Tony finally tore his gaze away from the scenery whizzing past them. Everyone stared at him, his confession stunning them all. Clint’s mouth had dropped open. Clint was the first to recover, wrapping his arms around Tony, chair and all.  
“Moron, you always were part of the team. Always my friend.”  
“Sure, birdbrain,” came the doubtful-masked-by-sarcasm response.  
Bruce was the next to recover.  
“You’ve always been my friend, even before you were officially on the team. You never treated me differently, no eggshells. I needed that, needed to be treated as human. Scientist first, enormous green rage monster second. I just didn’t realise I needed it until you.”  
Natasha spoke next, her voice sotto voce, barely audible over the engine.  
“You forgave me. For lying to you a few years back. It’s rare to find someone who forgives that. Especially in the line of work I do.”  
She leant forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, meaning more than any word she could come up with.  
“You have offered me the warmth of your companionship and have courageously fought by my side. I am honoured to call you my friend Anthony Stark.”  
There was a beat of silence as Steve tried to find the words. He could only find three, blaring in the forefront of his mind. They were right but they weren’t right for right now. He found a suitable alternative easily enough though.  
“When I was done being a Capsicle, I had nothing to call my own. Only my uniform but that wasn’t really mine either. That was Captain America’s, as was the shield. The SHIELD apartment was bland, the furniture, the decorations. Nothing seemed to be in colour, just various shades of grey, white, and beige. Until you. You, with your flashy red and gold armour, your louder-than-life personality, and your deafening rock music. You helped make my life less bland from the moment I met you, showing me something different than just following orders and waiting until the next time I could be of use. You invited me into your home, provided me with things that I could call mine, not Captain America’s or even Captain Rogers’ but mine. But better than that, better than things, you found me a family. And you are part of it. I can never thank you enough for that, but it is so much more than gratitude, so much more than I can express. So please accept my thanks, Tony, for being the friend I desperately needed.”  
“Jesus, just propose already,” muttered Natasha, knowing his super serum hearing would pick up every word.  
Tony missed her comment, furiously blinking and biting his lip. When his vision cleared, he uttered a ‘thank you’ to everyone and if his voice was rougher and little more choked than they’d ever heard it, no one, not even Clint, would call him on it.  
“So, camping again?” Tony asked when his voice was clearer.  
“How about we make it an annual thing?” Steve suggested.  
“Ooooh can we do it in summer?”  
“We’d need to change the weekend every year, make sure the supervillains don’t catch on.”  
The conversation devolved into planning way too far in advance and tech that could be used, improved, and abused during camping trips. Steve just remained silent, focused on the road. This was how it was meant to be. This was his team, his friends, his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more Steve-centric one (kinda).
> 
> For anyone who doesn't know, where Tony says 'double stripes' it is a reference to Wreck-it-Ralph, where a candy tree had branches covered in stripes. One with double stripes would disappear if grabbed, leading to Ralph falling.


	6. Seriously Stark, Quit Your Day Job

# Chapter 6 – Seriously Stark, Quit Your Day Job

 

It happened mostly accidentally. It started with Tony curled up on a sofa trying to push through the nightmares to get some sleep. Every few nights when exhaustion set in, Point 72 reached and Tony’s hands were shaking from too much caffeine so that he couldn’t even work on the holograms, he would drag himself up and set up a random Disney film to ease him into sleep. For some reason this usually happened on a Monday, a Tuesday, and a Thursday. And that had nothing to do with the fact Steve usually found his way to the entertainments room after a work-out or a sketching session. So with Steve often sat with him, Tony and Steve took turns picking the movie. Whenever one of the others turned up there was a silent agreement that the newcomer got to pick the movie. Except one Thursday night when everyone turned up.  
“You can’t start on the third Harry Potter, Steve hasn’t even seen them yet.”  
“Whatever Tony, better than starting on episode 4 of Star Wars,” Banner jeered back.  
“It’s the first one and you know it,” Clint yelled across the room, “but Jurassic Park, come on, dinosaurs!”  
“My friends, what about this film?”  
Thor was holding up a bright green DVD case, looking incredibly pleased with his choice, as Tony looked at the outdated medium in disgust.  
“We are not watching Shrek,” Natasha said quietly.  
“But it’s a classic,” Barton moaned.  
“How are you even _defining_ classics?”  
And then the arguments started. Steve, good team leader that he is, just asked Jarvis to set up The Wizard of Oz. When they all twigged on to the fact the decision had been made for them, they all turned to yell at Steve. Before a word was uttered he held up his hand to silence them.  
“I go first because I’m the oldest,” he said with a grin, “then Tony, Doctor Banner, Barton, Romanoff, then Thor.”  
“I much surpass you in years Captain.”  
“Yeah but Thor when you actually put it in proportion of our lifespan you are about 18,” Clint argued.  
Everyone grumbled, faint mumbles of ‘I’m not even that old, jerk’ and ‘I am definitely younger than you Clint’ were heard but everyone shushed, letting the colourful world of Oz wash over them. Tony had stretched himself out, sprawling full length along the couch. Steve and Banner sat at each end, both close to getting a lapful of Tony. Natasha and Clint sat on the floor, backs against the couch, while Thor’s body spanned the length of the floor, upper body propped up with a beanbag chair. Tony made a note to buy a love seat for when Coulson eventually joined them on movie night. A whining archer and stubborn agent did not make for easy viewings. When it got to the ‘There’s no place like home’ Steve could have sworn he saw Tony close his eyes and tap his heels together. But when he opened them there was a smile on his face so Steve didn’t think on it (well not too much). So Steve claimed the first official movie night. Everyone attended the next, never wanting to give up their turn.

 

Tony had chosen a film which Steve had never heard of (unsurprisingly) called ‘Back to the Future’ and fell asleep about three minutes in. Banner had put on the second one for his turn (again Tony fell asleep about five minutes in). Barton had chosen the Hunger Games, severely regretting it when he was called Katniss for a month. Romanoff had decided to continue his suffering with Catching Fire. During Katniss’s training scene Tony stood suddenly and zoomed off, muttering incomprehensible technobabble to Jarvis. By the next movie night they had a fully working holographic training room, like the one Katniss used, down in the gym, and a very exhausted Tony on the couch. He sat down and fell asleep in an instant, Steve’s bicep instantly becoming a pillow. With promises not to boom, Thor chose the next film. He picked ‘The Theory of Everything’ which had everyone in tears by the end (except Natasha because no matter what Clint said she was not crying, and Tony who remained entirely asleep throughout). The movie credits rolled and everyone but Steve rose to go to bed.  
“Not tired Cap?”  
“Nah, Tony recommended the BBC series Sherlock, so I thought I’d watch a few episodes.”  
Everyone waved good night and left him in front of the gently flickering TV. He didn’t manage more than one episode, not quite prepared for the mini-movie. Tony woke right at the end and promptly apologised for falling asleep (again). He got up and wandered into the corridor heading straight for the stairs leading to the workshop.  
“Tony, bed.”  
“Dammit.”  
Switching directions he walked into his room and collapsed on the bed fully clothed in oil covered sweats and a very ripped tank top. Steve looked in at the sight and dragged the black throw from the foot of the bed and draped it over him. If the man was so tired why was he even attempting to work? Steve shut the door softly and went to his own room.

 

By the sixth movie night, nobody even attempted to rearrange the seating plan unless more guests attended. Frequent regulars were Jane and Darcy, occasionally the Warriors Three and Lady Sif joining them for Thor’s turn. Tony invited Pepper and Rhodey a lot but they rarely came, often too busy with CEO and War Machine duties to make it. Thursday had become official movie night and on the tenth movie night they quite accidentally found another of Stark’s hidden skills. It was Barton’s turn and he picked a horror movie that no one but him liked. Banner had left the room to make popcorn but hadn’t returned for twenty minutes. Too stressful. Tony moaned about seeing it before and let his eyes glaze over, engineering trance activated. And for once he wasn’t taking up the entire couch, he had sat upright to allow for the now absent Bruce and his absent but mildly sprained ankle. Natasha was sat in between his legs when Stark’s hands wandered down to her shoulders. She had seen it coming out of the corner of her eye and assumed it was tactile comfort for his thinly masked fear. Seriously, no one but Barton likes horror films. But Tony’s touch was light and firm, soft circles with his fingers rubbing up her neck and across her shoulders. As the movie approached a dramatic part, Daniel Radcliffe half drowning in mud, Natasha made a noise halfway between a purr and a groan. The film was immediately paused and everyone turned to look at her. Tony was still staring glassy eyed at the TV screen, really not paying attention to the ghostly tale playing.  
“How long has he been doing that?”  
“Like twenty minutes,” Natasha purred, her shoulders unknotting and her body becoming boneless.  
“Looks good, I want a go.”  
“Back off Clint, get your own,” she hissed.  
He looked hopefully at Coulson.  
“No.”  
“Don’t you love me?”  
“Not that much,” Coulson said with a smile.  
Steve waved a hand in front of Tony’s face, who just stared straight through it.  
“Is he even aware that he’s doing it?”  
“Aware enough that it feels good and it’s always just the right amount of pressure.”  
“He’s in his engineering trance.”  
“Should we ask him about it?”  
“God no, what if he stops doing it.”  
“He isn’t your own private masseuse,” Steve scolded.  
“He’s better than my private masseuse.”  
Clint looked astonished.  
“You got a masseuse? He wouldn’t let me have one.”  
“Didn’t you ask during the week you switched his coffee for decaf?”  
“Yeah, that was a horrible week.”  
“We don’t speak about that week.”  
Said week involved an incredibly stroppy Tony who seemed to have a death wish, snapping at everyone including Natasha. He hadn’t slept, dark circles forming even darker bruises. He blew himself up a record six times in a day, and threatened to deactivate Jarvis a record hundred and twenty six times. It didn’t help that no one but Clint knew what was happening. Tony couldn’t figure out why coffee wasn’t working and Pepper had cut off his alternate caffeine methods (energy drinks, gum, pills) after the pool fiasco. So the week started with confused Tony, and as always confused Tony who couldn’t solve a problem turned into furious and mildly hysterical Tony. Tony had given up drinking coffee all together, when it failed to do its task. The week drew to a close after particularly vicious argument with Black Widow about SHIELD comms. She had accidentally picked up old SHIELD tech, not custom Stark stuff and he assumed she was insulting his tech. Needless to say that week’s villain lasted all of ten minutes and forty three seconds when faced with a decaffeinated Stark. Yes Jarvis had timed it. But when he was screaming at Natasha for a good deal longer than that, well Jarvis had felt it necessary to intervene before someone (Tony) got hurt. Of course intervening meant getting Steve and getting Steve meant getting the rest of the team to control Tony. The week ended with Tony stuck on the couch finally asleep, after shouting himself to a collapse, with Mjolnir placed on his legs as an added precaution, while they all glared daggers at Clint. Clint at least had the decency to look guilty. He was sent to retrieve the real coffee, tucked away deep in one of the air vents. Clint had been placed in time out for a month because of it.  
“Never do it again.”  
“I won’t. Well at least not this week.”

 

Soon after the discovery of how good Tony was with his hands, everyone began jostling for places when it became clear he was bored of the film. Clint began choosing RomComs, often surprised to find Tony paying attention to the majority, moaning about lack of representation and only glazing over when he could mouth the words. Banner picked films Tony had seen loads. Natasha always chose foreign films, arguing she could understand them and it was her night to pick. Although she had failed to grasp how many languages Tony himself knew. She gave up with French, Italian, and Spanish films, instead opting for Russian and Hungarian. Thor put on documentaries to both improve his knowledge of Midgard and bore Tony. Although Thor would often give up his space for Darcy. He argued that his stature would block Tony’s view and most likely make him break out of his trance, the others had the feeling that it was just that Darcy seemed to enjoy them so much and Thor was often preoccupied with Jane’s company. Since the discovery Darcy and Jane had basically come to every single one of Thor’s movie nights. Steve was the only one who picked because he wanted to see the film, never once causing Tony to go into his trance. Steve finally got his turn when Tony, after a 63 hour long inventing stint and a hour long rant at Jarvis for ‘conspiring with Dummy to mess up his calculations’, had collapsed face down taking up the entire sofa. Steve sat on the floor by his knees, with Bruce perching on the arm of the sofa. It was Steve’s turn to pick a film so he had opted for a Superman film. Tony had remained motionless for most of the film, so much so that halfway through Bruce had checked his pulse and breathing. A whisper of ‘asleep’ and the team settled back down. In the last twenty minutes Tony had swung himself up muttering about scientific inaccuracies and how Lois would have been sliced by Superman’s arms. He still watched with rapt attention, hands trailing down to Steve’s shoulders. Carefully he began working on the tense muscles. Soon Steve’s body was loose beneath Tony’s touch, faint moans catching in his throat. Tony just smiled throughout. Then the Avengers alarm blared.

 

Everyone took personal offense to movie night being put on hold. Dr Doom and his Doombots were taken out in record time, with Iron Man and Captain America being particularly enthusiastic in the proceedings. Black Widow had Doctor Doom cornered, and he surrendered wholeheartedly when he realised that he had a team of pissed off superheroes to deal with. He hadn’t foreseen their anger. And that was the first interruption of a supervillain. But many more came and went. A pathetic lot calling themselves the Wrecking Crew interrupted Clint’s, AIM interrupted Tony’s, and Loki seemed to take frequent joy in interrupting both Thor’s and Banner’s. No one ever seemed to interrupt Nat’s and the team wasn’t quite sure that it was as coincidental as she claimed. Regardless, none of the attacks ever lasted long on a Thursday night. There were six other days to choose from and no one wanted an annoyed God, an irked Super Soldier, an irritated genius with access to missiles and heavy artillery, a very angry rage monster, an infuriated world class Marksman, and an enraged assassin on their ass. Attacking on a Thursday just demonstrated suicidal tendencies and no supervillain wanted that as their reputation.

 

After a particularly suicidal villain who just didn’t know when to give up _finally_ gave up, they all stumbled back to the tower. Most sporting a wide array of injuries. Bruce was just exhausted after Hulking out, Steve carrying him back to the tower, despite his own rainbow of bruises up his left side (which he insisted would fade by the end of the night). Coulson was supporting a dizzy Clint, concussion only mild which was a relief to all. Tony was carrying Natasha whilst simultaneously trying to make it seem like he wasn’t carrying her. The damned monster that AIM had accidentally created had torn out half his vital controls and now the hydraulics were seizing in his suit, making him little more than a rather expensive mannequin. Despite the damage to the suit, Tony had fared far better from the fight, only a small cut on his eyebrow. He lowered Nat onto the floor at the foot of the sofa, injured leg propped up on pillows, before dragging himself out the door. Coulson and Steve lowered their cargo onto the loveseat and couch, Steve bending down to check on Natasha.  
“ ’m fine cap,” she slurred, not overly convincing.  
Tony returned, suitless and a first aid kit tucked under his arm. When Steve looked at him eyebrow quirked questioningly, Tony just shrugged.  
“I took a course, figured it might be useful to know first aid.”  
He pulled out several ice packs and tossed them at Steve.  
“On the bruises, don’t argue, you would do the same to me.”  
Tony turned his attention back to Natasha and her now heavily bleeding gash down her leg. He wiped his hands with an alcohol wipe and her leg with another. Then pulling on medical gloves he wiped the wound as best he could. The gash was a lot smaller than expected. Two small stitches, a little crooked but effective, on the back of her leg, dressing and medical tape. He handed her a glass of water and a couple of painkillers, before rounding on Coulson.  
“Where the FUCK was SHIELD medivac?”  
“Blocked off by that creature’s destruction.”  
“But what if we had…”  
The words on his tongue died as he stared at his injured and exhausted teammates. He snapped his mouth shut, turned off The Hunchback of Notre Dame (it was his turn to pick) and put on Spirited Away. If there was one type of film they could always agree on it was Ghibli. Banner found them calming, Steve loved the art style, Nat enjoying the weird plots, Thor commenting that they have creatures like that in Asgard with the rest of the team never knowing if he was joking, Clint just loving it because Ghibli, and well Coulson just loved it because Clint did. Tony sat behind Natasha and rubbed her shoulders, careful of every bruise and ache. When he finished her shoulders, he simply moved on to Steve, getting him to lie on his front and straddling his back, never putting any pressure on the bruises. Unknotting Steve was fast and painless, and then he moved onto Banner. Pressing a warm cup of coffee into the exhausted Physicist’s hands, Tony sat on the back of the couch and rubbed Bruce’s shoulders. He felt the scientist fall asleep beneath his hands, quickly grabbing what was left of the coffee and downing the last of it himself. For Barton he sat at his feet and worked on his hands, feeling the tense muscles, tired from overwork during the battle. Coulson looked impressed as the pain receded from his lover’s face. Tony looked ready to offer to Coulson, but was silently and politely declined with a smile. Everyone but Coulson and Thor had drifted off to sleep under Stark’s hand.  
“Thor?”  
“I appreciate the thought Stark, but I do not wish to inconvenience you.”  
“But you always gave up your turn for Darcy.”  
“You were aware during your trance?”  
“Yeah, not really a trance. I kinda just zone out. Still aware. Don’t tell the others.”  
“Aye, you have my word. But why don’t you wish for them to know. Surely you would prefer them to know it is a conscious choice on your part?”  
Tony shrugged.  
“Nah, simpler this way.”  
“How?” Coulson asked.  
“Eh, everyone expects Tony Stark to be a certain way. A certain je ne c’est quoi. Easier to give them what they want.”  
“Another mask then Stark.”  
“One of my favourites,” he grinned.  
“I wish a day would come when you felt you did not need them around me and the rest of your shield brothers and sister.”  
“I honestly do trust you guys. I’m just used to it. I like being thought of in a certain way. I can predict the reactions that way. Makes life simpler.”  
“Is it not hard to live that way? Hiding who you are all the time?”  
“I’ve had years of practise.”  
Tony settled down behind Thor and rubbed his shoulders, a pleased rumble escaping him.  
“Why did I ever give up my turn to the lady Darcy?”  
“Beats me hammer-time.”

 

True to his word, Thor had never said anything to the rest of the team. One Friday morning Clint walked into the kitchen looking remarkable well-slept and perky despite the early hour, glancing at an exhausted Tony, who had failed to sleep despite the film. Although hey, he had designed six new types of arrows and a new bulletproof material that was light, durable, and machine-washable (that’s a new feature), perfect for new uniforms. But Tony was clasping his coffee like a man drowning and it was a life-preserver. It also appeared he was trying to get his daily dose of caffeine through osmosis (yes his blood definitely had more caffeine in it than the coffee at this stage), never raising the cup to his lips. They bantered back and forth a little, not up to their usual standards but hey it was early.  
“You really should quit your day job y’know.”  
“I told you, I am not becoming a lap dancer,” Tony murmured into his cup.  
“Not what I meant, but you do know we all appreciate it, right?”  
“Not a clue what you mean.”  
Clint just sighed and made Tony more coffee. No one wants to see a decaffeinated Stark.


	7. Midnight Chats and Aerial Acrobats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My first 5+1, alternatively called 5 Things Steve Learnt About Tony From Others And One Thing He Learnt From Tony Himself.

# Chapter 7 - Midnight Chats and Aerial Acrobats

 

Steve couldn’t always sleep. His body never needed much and sometimes he couldn’t just relax. On sleepless nights he always ended up in the kitchen, sketching a certain mechanic and drinking from a mug of hot chocolate. On rare occasions other people would join him with their own hot beverage. They would usually have a chat for a few hours, topics ranging from baseball to the secrets of the universe. After a lovely long discussion both participants would return to their rooms, the call of sleep much stronger than before. Steve often used it as a chance to find out more about his teammates. For example Natasha had a love of tea, especially Green Tea after having done a series of missions in Japan. Bruce likes midnight snacks, favouring sweet over salted (and always claims that it is because salt is bad for blood pressure). Clint also has a sweet-tooth but favours British chocolate, often swiping Tony’s credit card to buy it (Tony knows and doesn’t mind as long as Clint orders him one of the 1kg Cadbury’s Bars every so often). It was also during one of his first midnight chats that Steve discovered Thor’s all-speak. It was late at night and Thor was sat on the floor of the balcony cooing at a pigeon. Steve had sat next to him curiously and watched as Thor spoke softly. Steve had asked if it was possible to teach all-speak and Thor just looked sadly.  
“Yes it can be taught, but it takes about three hundred years to perfect. I often wish midgardians had longer lifespans.”  
They had sat in thoughtful silence for a while, just watching the skies. It had been a very peaceful night and eventually Steve felt tired enough to sleep.

 

One thing bothered him though. Despite the odd hours he kept, the resident genius/idiot never seemed to show up, certainly never long enough nor lucid enough for anything remotely close to a conversation. And Steve wished to get to know him better. Midnight seemed to be the time to share stories and secrets and smiles. But short of forcibly dragging him upstairs – which would not go well, Steve had seen Pepper try – he settled to just getting to know the others better. Currently he was sat at the breakfast bar with Clint, both clasping mugs of hot chocolate. Clint was tossing back Galaxy Minstrels, throwing them into the air and catching them in his mouth. He looked a little blissed out, having recently had his chocolate stores replenished by Tony without asking. The smell of chocolate hung in the air, making Steve crave something a little more savoury. He opened the fridge, surveying the contents.  
“Don’t go for the pizza.”  
“Huh?”  
Clint was staring longingly at the rest of Steve’s hot chocolate, not breaking his gaze but somehow seeing the food Steve was eyeing up.  
“Don’t go for the pizza,” he repeated simply.  
Steve poured the last of his hot chocolate into Clint’s mug, leading to a very happy ‘yay’ from the archer.  
“Why? Do you want it?” Steve offered.  
“Nah, it’s Tony’s favourite.”  
“Really?” That did surprise Steve.  
He had always assumed Tony’s tastes were more refined, more… well more expensive. This was cheap left-over pizza from when the team ordered take-away while Tony was away on business. An entire BBQ chicken pizza was tucked underneath an array of other foods. Steve just pulled out left-over Chow Mein and stuck it in the microwave.  
“Yeah, seriously. I never would have guessed but he always suggests pizza for take-away. Last time we got pizza he ate his entire large and half of Natasha’s. She lets him get away with murder. I couldn’t even get a bite.”  
Clint was sulking, resentful that his best friend wouldn’t share her food, when the woman in question walked in.  
“He needs calories, I’m just looking out for your health,” she said, smacking him round the back of the head.  
“My health she says. Only yesterday you flattened me into a training mat and you are worried about my health.”  
“Yup,” she said cheerily, stealing Steve’s Chinese from the microwave. Through a mouthful of noodles she said “I mean you’re getting old, metabolism slowing. Don’t want you getting podgy. Coulson might dump you.”  
“Coulson would definitely not dump him over a few pounds,” Coulson said walking into the room, “he will however dump you if you don’t get your ass to bed right now.”  
Clint grinned and grabbed Coulson’s hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet.  
“Night Cap,” he said with a laugh.  
Natasha took Clint’s vacated seat and drained the last of his hot chocolate.  
“Clint is so whipped,” she laughed.  
“I think you mean ‘Clint is so happy and in love’,” Steve shot back.  
“God, Tony was right, you are like freedom and apple pie personified aren’t you?” She asked rhetorically.  
At that point Tony wandered into the kitchen, hair stuck up with grease and arms marred in tiny, not serious burns. He went straight for the fridge and pulled out the pizza, not even blinking when the food on top of it fell to the floor. He simply took the box and left again, without shutting the fridge.  
“Do you think he even noticed we were here?” Steve asked, bending down to collect the spilled food.  
“Nope,” Natasha replied, helping Steve with the food, “at that stage of no sleep I don’t think he would notice you stark naked doing the Macarena.”  
Steve snorted at the image, cheeks still flushing a dusky pink.

 

The next day, movie night, Tony suggested getting pizza for dinner. Between them, Steve, Tony, and Clint managed to convince the rest of the team. And sure enough Tony ordered BBQ chicken pizza. After tearing his way through his own, he began staring longingly at the last half a slice of Natasha’s peperoni. She passed it to him without a word. He finished it within five seconds and still looked unsatisfied. Steve did just as Natasha did and passed him two slices of his Sloppy Giuseppe. Tony looked curiously for a second then dove in. Finally full, he settled to gnaw on the one remaining crust. Once that was done his hands snaked down to Natasha’s shoulders, his gaze heavy-lidded but still semi-focused on the movie, one of the Indiana Jones films (Clint gave up his pick for Coulson). Eventually his hands stilled, Natasha tipping her head back to check on him. His eyes were closed and his breathing was steady, but he was sat bolt upright. Steve gently pulled him back, so he was resting again the sofa. Natasha, her touch light and careful, began wiping away the grease, both food and engine, away from his face and hands, gentling kneading the cramps from his hands. So Tony Stark, man of sophisticated taste, loved cheap pizza.

 

It was a few weeks later before anyone came in for a midnight chat again. For once it was Thor, a rare visitor. Usually he slept soundly, having no troubles drifting off. But tonight he was homesick and missing Jane, seeking companionship to try to ebb the feeling of loneliness. He and Steve chatted a while, mutually confiding in each other about the troubles of understanding all things ‘futuristic’ and ‘midgardian and severely outdated compared to Asgardian technology’ (“Don’t let Tony hear you say that.” “I would never, his technology actually surpasses a lot of Asgardian creations.”). Soon they were just left discussing anything that came to mind. Steve was sketching Thor is full Asgardian attire, Thor happily posing with his hammer held aloft. Once he drew the outline and finer details in pencil he allowed Thor to relax. Thor joined him on the couch, peering over his shoulder at the sketch. Steve shied away, blocking it from view.  
“Forgive me, my curiosity got the better of me.”  
“No I’m sorry, you can see it when it’s done.”  
Steve began softly shading the cape, bright reds darkening in shadow and paling to a soft pinkish hue where the light hit it straight on. Thor picked up a few pencils from the tin beside Steve. A bright, somewhat obnoxious purple, a paler lilac, a bright candy apple red, a moss green, a deep crimson, and finally a stubby pale blue pencil. Worn down from use, the only colour that matched the glow of the arc reactor.  
“What’s your favourite colour Captain? You have said but I cannot remember.”  
Steve just tapped the pale blue he was holding.  
“Really? Interesting.”  
“What’s interesting?”  
“You share favourites with Anthony.”  
“Really? Not-“ he plucked the candy apple red from Thor’s gentle grip, “-red?”  
“No, that is the Lady Natasha’s favourite colour. It suits her.”  
“Why not make his suit blue then? Why the red and gold?”  
“Certain things are expected of the man of iron. Subtlety is not one of them. He does his best to meet the expectations of those around him.”  
Steve sat thoughtfully, trying to ponder the meaning of what Thor said. The only answer coming to him was that he still couldn’t understand Tony’s mind. But that would never stop him trying.  
“So the other pencils?”  
The obnoxious purple was Clint’s and the softer lilac was Coulson’s. The crimson turned out to be Banner’s. Thor’s favourite was the dark green which he stared at with remorse, and now that Steve looked closely he was certain it was the colour of Loki’s cape.  
“Why that shade of blue Captain?”  
“Reminds me of someone I respect and care about a lot.”  
Thor laughed at that.  
“Is that a weird reason?”  
“No no,” Thor was quick to say, “only you also share the same reason as Anthony.”  
“Who?”  
Thor looked very confused.  
“Who does Tony respect and care about?” Steve bit out, trying to keep the jealousy from his voice.  
Thor smiled simply.  
“He did not say. And when I pressed the matter, he had Jarvis play the song that gets on one’s nerves.”  
“What song?”  
Thor sighed, “Jarvis?” his voice a request as he glanced at the ceiling.  
Jarvis sighed, “I am most sorry about my creator, he doesn’t always act his age. Regardless the song to which Mr Odinson is referring is ‘I know a song that will get on your nerves, get on your nerves, get on your nerves. I know a song that will get on your nerves and this is how it goes.’ Simply repeat those lines in a never ending loops and you have the song. I am most sorry I was forced to do that.”  
“I do not hold it against you Jarvis, you were right in complying with him. You were protecting him from answering questions which he was not yet ready for. He is not ready to admit it yet, is he?”  
“No I am afraid he is not ready yet.”  
Steve was just staring at the ceiling bemused. He wanted to pry desperately, find out what Tony wasn’t admitting to himself, let alone others, but good manners stilled his tongue. Instead he plucked a dark grey from his tin and shaded in Thor’s armour.

 

Now he knew though, he kept spotting Tony in that shade of blue. It was the colour of the laces in his sneakers, the colour of his cufflinks as he went to yet another charity ball, and, on one (glorious) occasion as Tony bent over his workbench, the colour of his boxers. He never seemed to be without the colour. Tony caught him staring one morning. It was rare for him to be up so early. Pepper had probably ordered him into a board meeting to explain new tech designs or something. Dressed in the pale blue, his dress shirt half hidden under a dark suit jacket and tucked into black pants, Steve was drinking the sight in.  
“Window shopping or are you planning to buy something?” Tony asked leaning back in his chair and folding up the business section of the newspaper he was reading.  
“Could I even afford your watch, let alone the rest of you?” Steve shot back.  
The watch was beautiful, crystal face, silver metal and a pale blue strap, probably could feed a family for a week.  
“You could barter, for you I’d be willing to make a deal. I’m very flexible,” Tony purred, his smile feral and full of- nope definitely NOT full of want.  
Steve rolled his eyes, flirting was like breathing to Tony, something he had perfected over the years.  
“Aren’t you going to be late?”  
“Shit, yeah. Laterz honey-bunch.”

 

Bruce was sat on the counter next to the kettle at 2:46am when Steve walked in, the smell of peppermint tea in the air.  
“God you have sleeping habits that rival Tony’s,” Steve joked.  
Banner narrowed his eyes at him, slightly red-rimmed eyes ruining the attempt at intimidation.  
“No one has sleeping habits that rival the Zombie’s. And I’ll head to bed after I get the results I want.”  
“Same as Tony,” Steve half sing-songed at him.  
Bruce just glowered, smile hidden by his mug. He offered some tea from the pot next to him, Steve accepting gratefully. He leaned against the counter, sipping the earthy taste of pure peppermint from his mug.  
“So what are you working on?”  
Banner raised his eyebrows.  
“Come on, I want to know.”  
“Well that’s a first.”  
“That I take interest in your research?”  
“That anyone besides Tony takes interest in my research. But trying to test the tensile strength of Spider Silk. Once I get enough data I’ll send my findings to Tony, see if he can recreate it for Barton’s rope arrows.”  
“Do you think he can?”  
“Well no one’s recreated it so far so it’s a challenge. Which means if anyone can it will be Tony. Also remind him not to come into my lab for the next week.”  
“Why?”  
“Well he’s scared of insects.”  
“He is?!”  
“Well small ones… and Natasha I guess,” Banner added with a smile, “even if technically spiders aren’t insects. But he hates anything with more than four legs that is small and skittish enough to escape a repulsor blast. It’s a phobia, completely irrational. He walked into my lab two days ago and looked like he was going to pass out. Told me it was because of a recurring nightmare as a kid, something to do with his pillow turning into a cockroach and crawling into his mouth.”  
Steve shuddered at the very idea. If he’d have been forced to dream that, he’s have a phobia of creepy-crawly’s too. Banner’s phone buzzed.  
“That’s the results up. See you later,” Bruce said, waving a hand blindly behind him at Steve.  
“Get some sleep,” Steve called after him.

 

It was almost a month later before Steve saw any sign of Tony’s phobia. In fact he had forgotten Tony had a phobia. It had been at least two days since Tony last ate, so armed with a curry Bruce had cooked, Steve knocked on the tinted glass door to the workshop. When he got no response Steve entered his access codes and walked into the workshop. It wasn’t uncommon for Tony to be so caught up in work he failed to notice the outside world. What was uncommon was the complete lack of deafening rock music coming from the workshop. When Steve walked in Tony was standing on one of his desks, hopping back and forth between that one and the one opposite. He was desperately pale, whole body shaking.  
“Tony, are you okay?”  
Tony didn’t take his eyes off the floor, wide with terror. He jumped to the opposite desk with a shriek, skidding on paper and knocking mugs to the floor with a shatter. Steve stepped forward, placing the tray of food onto the Tony-free desk. He edged towards Tony, until… CRUNCH. Steve lifted up his sneaker to reveal a now crushed cockroach.  
“Eurgh, gross.” Tony let out a whimper, knees buckling under him, his body falling off the table. Steve caught him before he could crash to the floor.  
“Tony?” Tony had sunk into a dead faint, limp in Steve’s arms.  
Steve carried him over to the sofa, not knowing how best to help Tony recover. Water seemed like a bad idea. Steve just got him set up in the recovery position and waited. About a minute later Tony came to, with Steve brushing back his hair. His eyelids fluttered open, before he sat bolt upright only to sink back down clutching his head.  
“Oh god where is it?”  
“Shush Tony, it’s okay. I kind of… stepped on it.”  
Tony looked like he was going to throw up.  
“Burn your shoes. And the tower. I can buy a new one.”  
“Tony calm down. Look, I’ll clean it up, don’t worry.”  
Tony tried to sit up again, Steve’s gentle hands just pushed him back down.  
“Woah, easy, easy. Just lie for a bit for now.”  
Tony nodded.  
“I’m not pathetic.”  
“I know Tony.”  
“It’s just so stupid. Like bugs outside are fine. Just inside the house,” Tony shuddered at the thought.  
“I brought curry. There’s rice and naan bread too if you want it,” Steve offered.  
Tony nodded and Steve picked up the lukewarm curry. Tony began pushing the chicken around his plate absently as Steve used a napkin to wipe up the insect remains.  
“Burn the napkin too.”

 

“Cup of tea?”  
Coulson sighed in relief, tension sagging from his shoulders.  
“Tea would be great, thank you Captain Rogers.”  
“Steve. Not at work. How was the mission?”  
“It was, quite frankly, a disaster. I was so glad to have Banner with me. Without him, his input, we would still be studying the damn thing. So why are you up so late?”  
Steve glanced at the clock. 3:53am. Okay yeah late. He’d gotten caught up in his latest drawing of Tony, looking particularly battered in his armour after a very difficult battle.  
“If you want more material I have some photos left from that press release.”  
Coulson was writing up a report, not even glancing up at Steve.  
“What do you mean?”  
“You are drawing Tony again. And probably from the battle three days ago. Where Tony got swallowed by the giant, acid spitting lizard. I have the press relief photo if you need reference material.”  
“I’m fine thanks, good memory.”  
Coulson took a sip of tea.  
“Well if you want pictures you can always ask Tony. He’s got them of the whole team.”  
Steve spat out his tea. He quickly grabbed a dishcloth and began moping it up.  
“Sorry. What? He doesn’t strike me as the type.”  
“Didn’t strike me as the type either. He gets the pictures from Pepper, Rhodey, Natasha and myself, I think occasionally newspapers too. Paid us all handsomely not to tell anyone. Oops,” he said with his usual deadpanned.  
“Yeah, oops,” Steve parroted with a smile, “I won’t tell. How did you find out though?”  
“He needed to sign some papers for myself and Pepper. He let us into the workshop. There was a little black leather- well scrapbook is the closest word I can find- but scrapbook makes it sound so slapdash. He left it open on the side as he signed the papers and I flipped through it while I waited.”  
Steve tutted a little, “isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”  
“He saw me and didn’t seem to mind. He would have hidden it if he didn’t want myself or Pepper to see it. Though I guess some of Clint’s bad habits rubbed off on me, I didn’t really think to ask.”  
“Rude, I have no bad habits. I am flawless,” Clint said as he walked in, hand trailing across Coulson’s shoulders as he passed to grab coffee, “glad you’re back,” Clint leant down and kissed Coulson lightly on the lips, “when you’re done chatting come to bed, I need to welcome you back home and show you an entirely different way I can rub off on you.”  
He winked and was back out the door again, leaving an unconcerned Coulson and a painfully red Steve.  
“But you know what Stark is like,” Coulson continued as though he hadn’t been interrupted by the insinuating archer, “anything not hidden isn’t something he cares about you seeing, at least on a subconscious level. He might be embarrassed if you brought it up.”  
“I wouldn’t do that.”  
“I know you wouldn’t, that is why I told you,” he said with a sly grin, “now if you’ll excuse me, I do believe I have an archer waiting for me.”  
“Indeed. Uhhh… have fun?”  
As Coulson left Tony rushed past, grabbing the coffee pot and swigging straight from it. He gestured for Steve to follow him, still carrying the coffee pot.

 

“Tony when did you last sleep?”  
Tony just waved a hand dismissively, pulling Steve to the workbench. He began pulling back Steve’s sleeve, muttering incomprehensively. He attached a leather gauntlet around Steve’s arm, Steve noted the thin metal woven into the leather. Letting Tony fuss over the gauntlet, Steve turned his attention and free hand to the workbench. He found the previously mentioned scrapbook buried under a mound of paperwork. Coulson was right, ‘scrap’book was not even close to accurate in describing it. He flicked through the pages. The early pages contained some sepia toned photos (mostly of a young boy with dark curls – Tony – and an older gentleman looking at him with affection and regard, though there was one photo with a very staged feel of Tony standing in front of his seated father and woman Steve assumed was Tony’s mother) and a few newspaper cuttings, press releases from the lighting up of Stark Tower, him and Pepper standing proudly at the base of it in front of the press. After that came pictures, loads of them. Every single one fastidiously dated with a neat label listing the place and a caption. There was one image taken from the security camera at the Shawarma place, image grainy. Listed neatly below was _May 4 th 2012 – New York City, New York – Shawarma, then taking a day_. Next was Tony and Clint sat in a medical bay, Clint bandaged up and Tony sat at the end of his bed. Tony’s back was too the camera but both men were laughing, light and joyous and running on an adrenalin high. Listed underneath was _May 15 th 2012 – SHIELD medical bay, Amarillo, Texas – No this is not the way, which Clint found out the hard way._ Then there was a picture of Natasha sparring with Tony in some SHIELD facility, Clint cheering them both on in the background. Natasha was standing tall and smirking, Tony holding up a hand in surrender from his position on the floor. _May 17 th 2012 – Triskelion, Washington DC – Reminder to self, never spar against Natasha again. EVER._ A Polaroid of Bruce carrying a single cardboard box. The picture was a little out of focus, slight shadow on the right hand side. _May 25 th 2012 – Stark Tower, New York City, New York – BRUCE OFFICIALLY MOVED IN!_ Steve smiled, Tony’s excitement clear in the messy writing. He flipped through a few more pages, catching sight of Clint and Natasha moving in, Steve looking in amazement at the Tower on his first visit, Thor landing after returning from Asgard, stopping after about three months of images passed. His eyes settled on one. Tony in his workshop, arms a blur of motion, eyes lit with the fire of invention and a hint of nervousness. His excitement and anticipation causing his usually well-honed mask to slip. His mouth was open, partway through an explanation of some sort to an attentive Banner. The rest of the team was standing around, the rest with looks of confusion or boredom. The label said _August 17 th 2012 – Stark Tower, New York City, New York – First Weapons display._ Steve stared at the picture fondly. It was the first time Tony had allowed any of them into his workshop, handing out weapons and armour like it was Christmas. A new quiver with an upgraded arrow loading mechanism plus three new types of arrow head for Clint, bracelets that hid razor wire and a pair of ultra-light but indestructible daggers for Natasha, a custom tablet for Banner, a new Taser and a box set of Super Nanny for Coulson (who just chuckled, apparently it was an in joke), a reinforced phone for Thor. But Tony had presented the most for Steve, because he apparently did not know what to give a super soldier. Within the one hour they were in the workshop, Tony had presented him with reinforced punching bags, a sparring robot that learnt Steve’s techniques and adapted to them, an entirely new design of StarkPhone, and a key to his new room. Steve had accepted gratefully, glad to leave the SHIELD apartment behind. He was the last to move in, constantly being sent on missions. Steve continued flicking through the pictures.  
“Clench your fist.” Tony pulled him from his reminiscing with a sharp command as he fiddled with some internal wiring.  
Steve clenched and nothing happened. Tony frowned, pulling the screwdriver out from behind his ear. He undid an internal pocket and began fiddling with the circuit board inside.  
“God fucking dammit, I tested it not five minutes ago why isn’t it fucking working, complete useless piece of shit, why is it so fucking worthless, can’t do anything right.”  
“Tony, calm down. You’ll get it,” Steve said confidently.  
Tony, honest to god, growled at him, his frustration a rumbling in his throat. He definitely was not talking about the device just then. Steve patted his shoulder in what he hoped was a reassuring way and continued flipping through the book. More photos, ones from Bruce’s birthday party, one where Tony got very drunk on New Year’s leading him to kiss a shocked Rhodey when midnight struck (no Steve would not get jealous over that, not even slightly), ones from their first full team Christmas after Tony confessed to never having celebrated it before (they couldn’t the year previous, some ass-hat villain decided it would be a great take over time). He told them he never bothered celebrating before now, his family never did and he never felt the need to. But in this picture, his eyes were joyous and Steve could still hear his raucous laughter in his mind. Tony was never the focus of any of the images but he always drew Steve’s eye. This image was his favourite so far, Tony lifted onto Steve’s and Thor’s shoulders, tinsel draped around his neck and stuck in his hair, reaching forward to place a silver star at the top of the tree. Clint and Natasha were covering the tree haphazardly in baubles. The caption underneath had Steve a little choked up. _December 25 th 2013 – Stark Tower, New York City, New York – First Family Christmas._ Steve kept flicking forward, approaching the present. Pictures of Coulson and Clint curled up on the loveseat, Natasha perched on the dining table with a book, Bruce examining a test tube, Steve lost in thought with his sketchbook in hand, the team looking bedraggled after a fight but grinning and draped over each other, Clint blinking owlishly from a vent, Thor with three poptarts in his mouth, Pepper literally dragging Tony out of bed and then in the next picture, getting Rhodey to help, a smoothie covered Tony scolding Dummy who was clasping an empty blender cup, Steve and Tony curled up on the sofa, hands entwined - wait what. He read the caption following that one. _March 25 th 2015 – Stark Tower, New York City, New York – Note to self, get Natasha’s camera. Also stop falling asleep on Steve even if he is comfy._ A hand slammed down on the book, fingers splayed to cover the image. Tony’s eyes were blank and emotionless. He pulled the book from Steve’s grasp and shoved it in his desk draw.  
“Clench your fist,” he said blankly.  
Steve obeyed and a metal plate flew to his arm, attaching to the magnets in the gauntlet.  
“Wow,” Steve breathed in wonder.  
“For your shield. Attach the magnets to the leather straps,” Tony stated, his voice remaining empty.  
Steve couldn’t bear it, wanting to do anything, say anything to chase the hollow look from his eyes.  
“Tony, I’m sorry. I should have asked, I didn’t mean to be so intrusive and please don’t be mad.”  
Tony blinked at him several times, all in fast succession, finally revealing startled confusion on his face.  
“Mad? _You_ think _I_ would be mad? You mean you _aren’t?_ Mad? At me?”  
“Why would I be?”  
Tony shrugged.  
“As long as these photos remain… private – in yours and the team’s possession only – I see no issue in you having a few family photos. Also… would you be able to make copies of some of them for me?”  
“You’d have to let me know which ones, although you might have to ask Natasha and Coulson for some of them. They have the original negatives.”  
About a week later Steve had returned from the gym to find a thick heavy envelope left on his pillow. He slipped it open, pulling out a simple glass frame and lots of loose photos. A single sheet of paper fluttered out after it. He read the letter as he leafed through the photos.  
_Hey Steve, sorry I missed you. Tried to get these to you before the trip but crisis in the R &D dept. Anyway I picked out a lot of the group ones. I hope you like the frame too. Feel free to swap the picture, or just bin it. It doesn’t really matter, just you seemed to like it in my book thing so I got you your own copy. Pretty sure I sold my soul to Coulson to get it but yeah. Back in a week, Tony.  
_Steve looked through the photos, many Tony either hadn’t had a chance to put in his book or hadn’t wanted to. Steve was sure Natasha had slipped a few into the bunch, a slightly different size and all containing Tony or himself and Tony. Including the one of them curled up on the couch, hands clasped together. Steve picked up the frame, looking closely at the glass. It didn’t seem anything extravagant, and honestly nothing out of the ordinary. The picture within it was breath-taking, even if Steve had seen it before. The shot from Christmas was placed in the frame. It wasn’t until nightfall that Steve realised how much effort Tony put into this. In the dark the frame was glowing softly, an almost imperceptible pale blue. The cause for the blue was snowflakes etched into the glass, luminescent in the dark. Also etched into the bottom edge of the frame were the words ‘ _The first family Christmas’._ It took pride of place on his nightstand, next to his compass with the picture of Peggy still tucked inside and dog tags with the initials J.B.B.

 

“Nightmare?” she asked with haunted eyes of her own.  
“Yeah, you?”  
“Yeah, want to talk about it?”  
“Nope.”  
“Me neither.”  
She silently passed him a mug of hot chocolate, sipping her own tea.  
“So Tony?”  
“That’s what you _do_ want to talk about?”  
“One of my favourite topics,” she said expressionlessly.  
“You’re joking?”  
“Alright, one of _your_ favourite topics. I figured I would give you a way in to talk about him.”  
“I don’t talk about him that much do I?”  
“No, but you do draw him and stare at him and think of nothing but him and-“ she teased.  
“I get it. Okay yeah, let’s talk about Tony then.”  
“How’s your bike holding up?”  
Steve looked puzzled but answered anyway, “great, never better actually, why?”  
“Do you mean why did I ask that? You don’t know?”  
“Well it has nothing to do with Tony does it?”  
“Oh my god, you actually don’t know. This is brilliant, Coulson owes me like ten bucks. I knew you hadn’t figured it out.”  
“Is this like the time you bet I couldn’t figure out the washing machine?”  
“A little.”  
“So the bike?”  
“Tony runs checks on it.”  
“He does? I’ve never seen him.”  
“Yeah, keeps very detailed notes on it. He does the same for my weaponry, Clint’s bow and quiver, Coulson’s guns, all of Banner’s tech. He’s also been trying to make Hulk proof furniture and stretchy pants. Don’t know what he does for Thor but there’s a lot of files on it.”  
“That’s…” Steve couldn’t find the words. Amazing, thoughtful, and utterly overworking himself all came to mind.  
“Really sweet of him, yeah. So far I think he’s changed the tyres, the oil, reworked the suspension, changed the metal and grip in the handle bars to withstand your grip and… what else was it… oh yeah, he’s been working on several new alloys for armour. Honestly you’ll want to check the notes if you want the full list.”  
“Yeah you mentioned notes. Where does he keep them?”  
“We all have files on his workshop computer, Jarvis can find it for you. He also keeps a backup paper copy in the filing cabinets in the storage room. We have a drawer each.”  
“Why does he do all this work?”  
“You’d have to ask him,” she said with a cunning smile and sad eyes.  
“You know though.”  
“Yep.”  
“And you aren’t going to tell me?”  
“Noo,” she replied, drawing out the vowel.  
“You are infuriating sometimes.”  
“Oh no, how can I live with myself, making you talk to a fellow team member” she snarked.  
Steve rolled his eyes. After Natasha left to return to bed, Steve wandered down to the workshop. It was a rare occasion that Tony wasn’t down there, curled up safely in bed instead, having passed Point 72 and collapsing asleep only half an hour ago. Steve went straight to the computer.  
“Jarvis?”  
“Would you like me to find the files Miss Romanoff mentioned Captain?”  
“Yes please.”  
The screen lit and eight folders displayed on screen. Bruce, Clint, Coulson, Natasha, Pepper, Rhodey, Steve, Thor. Steve opened up a few, Natasha’s was as she said, weapons upgrades and maintenance testing, Rhodey’s covered new weapons for War Machine and improved HUD capabilities, Bruce’s covered lab equipment calibration and tried-and-failed materials for Hulk-pants. Whenever something worked as it should it was met with a line of neat precise assessment, but when something failed it was met with a page long evaluation, several (usually at least a dozen) alternative methods that might work better, and then a reference number to a future test. Steve opened up his folder. Files upon files poured out on the screen. Everything was inter-referenced, dated, and the attention to detail was simply outstanding. Everything from changes in his sidearm to repairs on the leather straps on the shield to methods of storing the shield during battles to every possible upgrade and protection Tony could offer on his bike.  
“Jarvis, he never told any of us about this.”  
“It is my understanding that Sir never felt the need to.”  
“Why not?”  
“To the best of my ability I understand this as sir’s ‘labour of love’ for the team. He wishes to offer you all every protection he can. However meagre he may feel his efforts to be.”  
“Well this is hardly meagre.”  
“Indeed Captain. Sir has spent many hours down here, trying out alternate materials when he can as well as inventing new materials when the requirements are not met by anything currently in existence.”  
“Why? I don’t mean to sound ungrateful or anything but…”  
“He feels he has failed his loved ones in the past. He wishes to never make that mistake again.”  
“How has he failed his loved ones?”  
“The Late Howard and Maria Stark both died in a car crash. Sir had to finish work and therefore had agreed to follow after them once the work was complete. Sir felt he could have somehow stopped it if he was with them, that he should have saved them.”  
“How?”  
“From all the data I have access to, there is no way he could have prevented their deaths.”  
“And he doesn’t listen to you does he?”  
“Regarding this matter, he listens to no one. However seeing as it serves a positive outcome, namely the protection of his team and family, it may be best to let his actions continue. He finds them at least vaguely reassuring.”  
“You’re right Jarvis, of course you are. Thank you for your help. Could you please close all the files and leave it as Tony left it?”  
“Of course Captain.”

 

So Steve had learnt something new about Tony, something he wasn’t certain he was better off knowing. Survivor’s guilt. Tony was exhausting himself to make sure the team was protected but he barely took care of himself. But Tony seemed to enjoy the work, the sense of pride when something worked the way he wanted shone through the page, especially after several attempts to get it right. A sharp yell pulled Steve from his thoughts. It had come from Tony’s room.  
“Sir appears to be distressed, if you could-“  
“On it Jarvis.”  
Steve ran into Tony’s room, the man curled up in a ball on the bed covers. His legs were tucked under him and his forehead to the bedspread. His arms were crossed across his chest. Natasha had followed Steve into the room, brushing past him as he stood frozen in the doorway.  
“My fault, it failed, I killed them, my fault, I failed, I killed them,” came Tony’s repeated litany, voice high and hysterical.  
“Tony,” she said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He immediately wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her neck.  
“I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry, I should have done more, I could have stopped it, I should have stopped it.”  
“Hey Tony, you okay?”  
“I killed them. I killed them.”  
“Tony take a deep breath for me. Who did you kill?”  
“I killed them, it’s my fault. Bruce… Clint… Thor…Nat-“ his voice broke, breaths coming in harsh sobs, “Natasha… and… and Steve…”  
His eyes were closed tight, face wet with tears he hadn’t meant to shed. Natasha hooked a finger under his chin, guiding his eyes up to hers. He opened them at the movement.  
“Hey Tony. I’m here, alive and well. Whatever happened, it was just a very bad dream. Okay?”  
Tony stood suddenly and ran from the room. Steve and Nat followed in hot pursuit as he wandered down the hall and across the floors. He finally stopped outside Clint’s door, hammering on it so hard Steve feared he would splinter the door from its hinges. Clint threw the door open, look of rage on his face.  
“What the fu-“  
Tony threw his arms around Clint, a vice grip around his neck. Clint saw Nat and Steve behind Tony and gestured in a ‘what the hell!’ manner.  
“Bad dream,” Natasha whispered.  
Clint’s face immediately softened, wrapping his arms around to return the hug. He patted Tony on the back and made to pull away. Tony let go reluctantly and went off, on to the next room. Natasha and Steve following. He pounded on Thor’s door and the god pulled it open with his usual grin. He immediately lifted Tony off his feet in a bear hug which for the first time Tony returned with enthusiasm and no complaints that he didn’t mean of not being able to breathe. Thor set him down gently, rubbing soothing circles on his back. Tony patted his chest and moved on to the next room, running down the corridor. He pushed open Bruce’s door cautiously and walked in. He tapped Bruce’s shoulder, who woke with a start. He eyed Tony up and just nodded.  
“Bad dream?”  
“Uhhuh.”  
“The really bad one?”  
Tony nodded silently. Bruce just sat up, pulled Tony to sit next to him and let Tony engulf him. Tony then got up and left, calmly leaving the room with Natasha trailing after.  
“The really bad one?” Steve asked.  
“Not entirely sure on the specifics but it involves space and technology Tony created failing on us, I think we all die and he doesn’t. Basically combines all his nightmares in one. When he finds me he never remembers the next morning. Half-hysterical, far too tired, and still caught up in the dream, it’s not really surprising.”  
“Does he usually come to you?”  
“Rarely. It’s happened about five times now but I know he's had the dream more than that. First one about three days after I moved in. I found him sat on my bedroom floor struggling to breathe. He only ever comes to me as confirmation that I’m not dead. And the next morning he will join us without fail for breakfast. Has he been to everyone’s room then?”  
“Yeah, everyone’s but… oh crap, everyone’s but mine.”  
“You might want to get to your room then.”  
Steve sprinted down the hall to his room, finding Tony curled up in a ball on his bed, Natasha awkwardly patting his shoulder.  
“Get in here,” she hissed, waving her hand frantically.  
He could just hear Tony’s inconsolable murmurs of ‘I killed him, I killed him, I killed him’. He sat next to Tony and just pulled him into sitting position, forcing Tony to look him in the eyes. Tony inhaled deeply, the shuddering sobs stopping for a moment before breaking out in full force.  
“Oh thank god,” was all Tony said before throwing his arms around Steve’s waist and burying his face in his chest. Natasha rested her hand on Tony’s shoulders.  
“I’m off to bed now, night Tony,” she turned to Steve, “let him stay yeah?”  
“It wasn’t even a question.”  
Tony eventually calmed, drifting off to sleep against him. Steve lifted him gently and carried him back to his own room. As Banner predicted, Tony joined them for breakfast the next morning and had no memory of the night previous.

 

“Morning.”  
“Tony, what time did you get up?”  
“Around 11ish I think.”  
Steve glanced at the clock, he had only been awake about an hour and a half.  
“Yeah, it’s Saturday right?”  
“It’s Monday.”  
“Oh, I’ve been up longer than I thought.”  
Steve rolled his eyes. Despite the lack of sleep Tony still had that inventing-the-world look in his eyes. His red rimmed, exhaustion bruised, bloodshot, whiskey-and-coffee-coloured eyes.  
“You should really sleep.”  
“Yes mom,” Tony sassed, then dragging a hand over his face, “if I could sleep I would. Too much work to do right now.”  
“What’s the work?”  
“I have to sort through potential applicants to offer the Maria Stark Scholarship fund. Pepper’s been moaning at me for about three weeks to get it done and I forgot and Pepper says she needs them by tomorrow afternoon. I’ve just sorted through the STEM lot. Still have art, history and English to do.”  
“Need help?”  
“Thanks Cap, but no need for you to suffer for my procrastination. Don’t worry it should-“ he paused for a yawn, “-should only take me another hour or two.”  
“I don’t mind, I could take the art applicants, history might not be a bad one for me either.”  
“True, you are living history, and I’ll happily admit you know more about art than me,” he pondered, “you sure you don’t mind?” he asked sceptically.  
“It’s fine, Tony. I want to help.”  
Tony disappeared for a moment, returning with an armful of paperwork. He yawned widely again, pinches appearing in his eyes as he set the mountain of paperwork down. His mouth was turned down in a frown and his brow furrowed in agitation. Looking back, Steve thought it had been a long time since he’d seen Tony properly smile. Not his _for the press_ smile or his _please the board members_ smile or even his _yes Nick, I am actually listening_ smile. Not his smug smile, his smirk, or his forced flirty smile. He wanted to see Tony’s _genuine, masks-be-damned_ smile.  
“Are you happy?”  
Tony startled at the question, mouth pursing a little.  
“Of course I’m happy. Genius, billionaire, etcetera. Why would I not be?”  
“ _Tony._ ”  
“ _Steve._ Please, I’m too,” he twisted his hand in the air, trying to conjure the words, “wound up right now. Why? Are you happy?”  
“Yeah. I mean, cliché as it is, I’m happy with my lot.”  
“What makes you happy?”  
“My drawing, you- the team,” he changed to quickly, “you’re all my happiness I guess.”  
Tony smiled just a little, face losing its tight pinched look.  
“Awww Captain Sappy-Pants.”  
“And you had to ruin the moment.”  
Tony burst out laughing.  
“I aim to please.”  
“You always succeed then.”  
Tony just laughed harder, apparently the notion of him being a success had tickled him somewhat. Eventually, face wet with tears of mirth, his laughter petered out and they resumed working on applications together.  
“So what makes you happy?”  
“Like a dog with a bone, you are. I don’t know really. I mean obviously you guys. And my work. But really, what makes me happiest… well… flying.”  
“Really?”  
“Yeah, haven’t had the time recently, except for missions. I guess it’s the freedom I enjoy. My first flight was my literal freedom and that feeling never really went away. Just soaring through the air and just, well it’s indescribable. You’d have to experience it. So?”  
“Soooo… what?”  
“Want to go for a ride with me?” Tony asked, deliberately provocative as he looked at Steve through lowered lashes.  
“I’ve been flying with you before,” Steve replied, tongue feeling very heavy in his mouth as his eyes watched Tony’s.  
“No, I’ve given you lifts before. I’m talking wind-whistling, air-bracing, free-falling, _actual flying_. So?”  
Steve wanted to, to see the world as Tony does as he races amongst the stars. Why was he hesitating? He was literally staring at Tony like an idiot.  
“You don’t have to- I mean it’s okay if you don’t- whatever, it was a stupid idea.”  
“I’d love to,” Steve answered at last, before Tony could entirely back out.

 

Steve hadn’t quite thought that Tony meant immediately, since they had only gotten through about a third of the paperwork. But then again Tony always seemed like a very in-the-moment kind of guy. Tony was suited up in no less than five minutes later. Steve finished off the Art application he was going through when Tony tossed a thick black sweater at him. When met with a questioning look Tony just replied with ‘for the cold’. They stepped out onto Tony’s landing pad and balcony. Steve was now instantly grateful for the sweater as the wind whipped across his face.  
“You ready for the ride of your life?” Tony purred, distorted by the mechanical intonation of the Iron Man suit.  
Steve grabbed hold of the handles that unfolded from the suit, Tony trusting in Steve’s grip as he set off. He moved slowly, or as slow as the suit was capable, until Steve got used to the sensation. Then they were banking sharply around corners and slingshotting up buildings. They flew out towards the beach, Tony lowering them both close enough to skim the water, spraying Steve while chuckling mechanically. Steve just laughed and slapped Tony’s helmeted head.  
“Watch it Shellhead.”  
Tony just laughed harder, aiming his body upwards in a steep curve. Steve held on tight, thighs pinning around Tony’s waist. They rocketed up towards the clouds, then suddenly Tony cut the power. He flipped up the face plate in the momentary instant they just hung in the air. He grinned, smile brighter than the lights of New York, before flipping the plate down again, just letting himself freefall. Steve let go, watching as Tony turned somersaults in the air. Flips and tumbles and dives. He then brought up the power, matching Steve’s speed and wrapping his strong metal arms around him, pressing them both close together. Slowly he eased them out of freefall, carrying Steve in a princess hold. Steve gripped tight on the metal arms. He landed them both neatly on a pier, flipping the face plate with a nervous grin. His cheeks were flushed and his pupils blown wide, which Steve just put down to cold night air and adrenalin.  
“Again?”  
“Sure Cap, always knew you were an adrenalin junkie.”  
Tony took off into the air, hovering a little above Steve.  
“Give me your hands.”  
Tony took Steve’s hands tenderly in his metal grip, pulling Steve up as he lifted in the air. Once at a decent height Tony pulled Steve against him, turning loop de loops through the sky, dropping Steve at the peak and catching him at the bottom of loop again. Steve let out a whoop of laughter as Tony zipped them both across the sky. After what felt like an eternity and yet no longer than seconds, Tony lowered Steve back onto the balcony.  
“That was amazing.”  
“Better than sex,” Tony grinned mischievously, “I gotta get out of this thing, see you in the kitchen if you still want to help.”  
“Well after that I owe you one.”  
“Damn, and I have to use it up on paperwork. I should take you flying more often then.”  
“I look forward to it.”  
With the suit removed they settle back in the kitchen, Tony all but inhaling a fresh mug of steaming coffee. They powered through the paperwork, half left when Tony fell asleep. Steve drifted off on top of a pile of History Applicant papers.

 

When they awoke it was around 10am, with the entire team sat around them. Natasha was leafing through language applicants, Thor working through the last of the history students. Coulson covered English as Clint toiled through the sports applicants. Steve blinked wearily up at them and nudged Tony awake. The man startled and grabbed his coffee. It couldn’t have been pleasant, several hours cold and with a greasy film sitting on top. With a grimace at the offending drink, he looked around at the team.  
“Hey wait a minute, what are you doing?”  
“Giving you time to sleep,” replied Coulson without looking up.  
“But-“ “Don’t worry about it Stark, you spent the last few weeks down in the lab and I have about fifty new types of arrow head to prove it. I mean paralysis arrows, cool, the ice arrows, straight out of Zelda, paintball arrows, great for practise. Just you’ve been wearing yourself out.”  
“We’ve been looking for a way to help you but you’d never let us. Stop trying to handle everything on your own.”  
“But I can manage just fi-“  
Coulson held up a hand, silencing him. He set down the papers with a sense of finality.  
“I’ve heard it from every new recruit, every junior and senior agent. You may be able to manage but you shouldn’t have to just manage. You have a team that not only _can_ help you but _wants_ to.”  
Tony nodded, biting hard on his lip as though trying to repress some smart-ass comment.  
“Thank you guys, seriously. I really appreciate it. What’s left to do?”  
“Nothing really, Bruce is just going over all the engineering ones.”  
“I thought I did them?”  
“Writing ‘FUCK YEAH! ENGINEERS’ on all the applicants you are accepting and ‘If you are going to waste my time can you at least be funnier’ on the rejected ones does not count.”  
“Right, fair enough.”  
Tony just pulled a few applications towards him which Natasha just plucked from his grip.  
“Go to bed. We got this.”  
And since you should never argue with the Black Widow, Tony heaved himself up, thanked them all again and made his way down the hall. Steve began cooking the others breakfast, soon there were stacks of pancakes to rival the stacks of work. He started on the bacon and eggs when everyone jumped at a thump. Coulson took over the pan and gave Steve a light push. Half-running down the hall, Steve eventually stopped to find Tony fast asleep and on the floor. He hoisted Tony up, and carried him to Tony’s bed. He ran his hands through the very tired genius’ (he needed a constant reminder that this overtired, overworked moron did, in fact, have a far above average IQ) hair, checking for any bumps. Satisfied Tony hadn’t given himself concussion, Steve left Tony to sleep. No more midnight chats with Tony if he was _that_ tired. Just as he left, he was certain he caught a whispered ‘thank you’.


	8. Fairy Fails

# Chapter 8 – Fairy Fails

 

“Sir, someone has breached the tower’s premises.”  
That was the last normal thing Tony remembered before he had woken up here, on a straw bed, wearing a potato sack of an outfit. No literally, he was wearing scratchy goddamn hessian shirt. Kidnapping maybe? He was in a dirty room, no carpet just rough wooden planks beneath his feet, thick concrete walls but no glass in the windows. Thatched roof above his head. Regardless none of this was good.  
“Boy, up. You must tend the fire.”  
Tony blanched at the sight in front of him. There stood Howard Stark, dark haired with flecks of grey and speckles of soot dotted across his bare arms and face. Tony got to his feet immediately and followed Howard obediently. Down the rickety stairs and he was confronted with a blacksmiths station. The forge was outside and burning merrily.  
“Your sisters wish to go to town, once you have completed your duties escort them.”  
Sisters? Okay Tony finally understood. He was dead. Had to be. Hell, he must be in hell if he was dealing with some kind of medieval Howard Stark and had sisters as well. Regardless he stoked the fire, shaped the metal, burned his hands, was deprived of breakfast and lunch, and waited for his sisters to show themselves. A tiny excitable brunette and a very dangerous red head approached Howard.  
“Father, we just heard the most exciting news. The palace is holding a ball, all the townsfolk are invited. Please father, may we attend?”  
“Of course my dears, Anthony, take your sisters to the seamster and have him run up two ball gowns and one suit.”  
It was certain that Howard did not intend for Tony to attend the ball so who was the suit for?  
“Sir?”  
“Ah to make it clear Anthony, one ball gown for Darcy, one for Natasha, and the suit for me. Did you really expect me to let my jewels attend unescorted. Don’t go getting any stupid ideas.”  
“No sir. My sisters, are you ready to head into town?”  
They both nodded and followed Tony out the door. The minute it closed behind them Tony wheeled around to face Natasha.  
“Please tell me you have some idea what is going on?”  
“Sorry Tony, no idea. I just woke up with Darcy next to me. Apparently we are related.”  
She quirked up an eyebrow. Darcy chimed in.  
“Does none of this feel a little familiar to you?”  
Tony and Nat just looked at each other.  
“Not even slightly. Should it?”  
“Did your parents never read you fairy-tales?”  
“You just met my dad, do you really think he’s the type? Although I saw like, half of the Disney Cinderella as a kid once if that helps. Of course daddy dearest caught me watching it when I was little and I haven’t wished to repeat the endeavour. Not a clue what happens. Stopped watching the early Disney films. Much prefer renaissance period.”  
“I only ever heard Russian folk tales from my parents.”  
“Well two sisters, a ball at the palace, Tony clearly not invited to attend, all we are missing is a fairy godmother.”  
“Please tell me she isn’t saying what I think she is.”  
“Yes I am, we are stuck in a warped version of Cinderella.”  
Natasha looked a bit miffed. “Does that make us the _ugly_ stepsisters?”  
“God no, that’s why I said warped.”  
“I thought you said warped ‘cause, y’know, male lead?”  
“Nah, there’s like a thousand versions, pretty sure someone will have done a roles reversed version.”  
“Well let’s get these bloody ball gowns.”

 

They walked into town, looking upon weirdly familiar faces.  
“Hey isn’t she the barista at Starbucks?”  
“Hey, he delivered my mail when I was five.”  
“I recognise her, the dark haired girl with the bell in her hand.”  
“Town crier and I do too.”  
“That’s Betty,” a voice popped up behind them.  
They turned to see an anxious face and salt and pepper hair.  
“Banner?”  
“In the flesh. Are we all here then?”  
“Only seen you three, who actually seem aware that this isn’t New York.”  
“Any idea where we can find the seamster?”  
“Apparently I am he.”  
“Oh I am a blacksmith apprentice and meet my sisters.”  
Nat and Darcy waved at Bruce.  
“Okay so who is Prince Charming?” Darcy asked.  
“Well who have we got left: Steve, Thor, Coulson, and Clint,” everyone burst out laughing at the idea of Clint as a prince.  
“Well Thor actually is a prince.”  
“Imagine Coulson as a prince,” more laughter.  
“Well Steve has the body for it,” Darcy drooled, her imagination running wild.  
“Sorry Darc but it seems Tony is Cinderella,” Nat grinned.  
“So we are stuck in a fairy-tale, and if Tony is Cinders then Steve is definitely Prince Charming.”  
“Maybe Darcy is Cinderella.”  
“Nah, I get to go to the ball.” She sounded incredibly disappointed.  
“But I don’t wanna go to the ball,” Tony whined.  
“I’ll take his place,” Darcy exclaimed, hand held high like she was answering a question in class.  
They all wandered over to Banner’s house where he immediately pulled out a bright purple dress and a deep green one. Nat looked at Darcy, offering her first choice.  
“Purple please.”  
She tried it on and it fit perfectly. Nat grabbed the deep green and again it fit like a glove. Both of them were visions, gossamer fabric clinging to their curves, skirts poofing out in a giant puff of fabric (Tony never claimed to understand fashion, guys just got suits and his tailor knows what he’s doing).  
“Oh and I need a suit for my dad.”  
Banner just pulled out an orange shirt with black fastenings and black trousers.  
“That will do. Kinda Victorian though isn’t it?”  
“More Georgian. I’m not altering it. Mainly because I can’t actually sew.”

 

Tony carted the clothes back to his father, who was very impressed with the craftsmanship. The day of the ball arrived and the girls got dressed and made up and hair and other things Tony couldn’t fathom. Deeming it too complicated he headed to the garden. The garden was small, a tiny paddock enclosed by a crumbling stone wall. A vegetable patch at the far end with a lone apple tree and blueberry bush next to it. The forge took centre stage, situated in the middle of the garden, away from the flammable roof. A golden retriever was chasing its tail while a gold Labrador came and rested its chin on Tony’s knee. Idly fiddling with its collar, Tony read the little ID tag.  
“Jane huh?”  
At the sound of the name the golden retriever barrelled into Tony, knocking him to the floor and sitting on top of him. A tag in the shape of a hammer was attached to the dark leather around his neck.  
“Thor?”  
The dog nodded and barked.  
“Why the hell are you a dog?”  
The dog shrugged as best a dog could.  
“Do you have your people minds?” he asked the canines.  
Both dogs nodded and barked.  
“Huh. Well that’s something I guess.”  
Suddenly the garden was thrown into complete darkness. As it receded a man was stood in the vegetable patch. Dark modern suit, sunglasses in place.  
“What the fuck? Coulson?”  
“Why am I your fairy godmother Stark?”  
“Beats me. Though I guess you are better than Fury.”  
They both wandered over to a section of low wall where they perched.  
“So what’s going on?”  
“Well, all I can really gather is that we need you and Rogers to kiss.”  
“Nope, nuhuh, not going to happen.”  
Coulson just continued as if Tony hadn’t protested. “We need you to because it is the classic ending of almost every fairy tale. The ‘and they all lived happily ever after’ cliché. So let’s get you to that ball.”  
“Nope, not going.”  
“Tony, you shall go to the ball,” Coulson ordered.  
“Well you can bibbity bobbity the fuck outta here, because I don’t want to kiss Rogers.”  
“Yes you do,” Coulson stated simply.  
Tony only spluttered elegantly in response.  
“Do you want us all to remain in fairy-tale land?”  
“No,” Tony said sullenly, “but you don’t even have a wand.”  
Coulson just reached into his pocket and pulled out a taser.  
“You have got to be kidding me.”  
“Apparently not.”  
He fired it at a blueberry bush, which began warping before their eyes, branches twisting into intricate patterns. After all the ‘shimmery magic shit’ (Tony’s words) was complete, a black chariot stood before them. Tony looked impressed.  
“Better than a golden carriage, that’s for sure.”  
“Okay, now horses.”  
He fired the taser at Jane, but Thor leapt in the way. With a growl, a glare at Coulson, and a flash of electric blue light he began changing into a large palomino. Coulson then fired at Jane, who also changed into a matching, slightly smaller palomino.  
“Okay, fine lets go.”  
“You are not going to the ball like that.”  
“What’s wrong with this?”  
Coulson just pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes.  
“Tony, you are literally wearing a sack.”  
“The press has seen me in less.”  
“I’m sure they have, but you are going to see royalty. Would you meet the Queen of England like that?”  
“I guess not,” he said reluctantly, “fine taser me like you always wanted.”  
Instead he fired it at the forge. The coals began to rise, golden sparks flying from them. They circled Tony, lacking their furious heat. In a puff of fire he was dressed in a cherry red jacket, gold buttons down the centre with delicate golden leaves sewn into the fabric. His (really tight, leaving nothing up to the imagination) trousers were coal black.  
“Damn, you have good taste Coulson. Ready to go yet?”  
“Stop, your shoes will ruin the whole look.”  
Tony glanced down at the simple tatty brown leather boots.  
“What’s wrong with them?”  
Coulson just tasered them. Cold metal now wrapped Tony’s legs, stopping just below the knee. A bright gold.  
“Really? Gold titanium alloy boots?”  
“They’re really comfortable,”  
Coulson shrugged.  
“Fine whatever, off to the fucking ball.”  
Tony climbed into the chariot and Thor and Jane were racing to the castle. And if he thought horses could exchange smug and knowing looks, he definitely would have said Thor and Jane were doing that for the entire journey.

 

When he entered the ball room, silence rang through the crowd, every pair of eyes turning to look at Tony. Glancing up at the Prince, a very attractive blond, dressed in a dark blue jacket, with white waist coat and white (equally as tight, and _hello Captain Rogers_ ) trousers, he gave a bow and wandered into the crowd. Within seconds there was a tap on his shoulder. A strawberry blonde was requesting a dance. Pepper. He politely declined, handing her off to Rhodey. Another tap on his shoulder and he turned to see the very gorgeous prince requesting a dance. Tony accepted and they swept across the dancefloor. Tony leading because Steve still didn’t know how to dance. Tony was murmuring instructions the entire time.  
“Dip me.”  
“Sweep.”  
Eventually the song was over, both men a little breathless.  
“Shall I get us drinks? Then we can actually talk about what’s going on.” Tony offered.  
Steve just nodded. Tony headed straight for the banquet table, watching as Nick seemed to be scolding Steve. Unwillingly Steve nodded and began dancing with a beautiful Princess. Tony looked around the massive ball room, trying to find his _sisters_. He saw his father trying to push them into cutting into the dance with the prince. Natasha looked murderous, fury aimed at Howard’s entire being and Darcy just began dancing with an equally excitable man.  
“Oh, I forgot. You only have until midnight.”  
Coulson popped up right next to Tony, giving him heart palpitations before disappearing again. Tony just stared at the empty space and wondered why things always seemed to hinge on midnight. Tony went back to watching Steve, whose eyes were in constant search for Tony’s, only ever losing them when he spun. Tony smiled, finally realising where he recognised the Princess from. She was younger than he’d ever seen her but it was definitely her. Aunt Peggy finally got her dance. Steve whispered in her ear and she looked close to crying in relief, running over to another girl and dragging her onto the dance floor. Both were giggling and just enjoying themselves. Huh, was she Angie? His dad’s old notes and pictures showed her, and Peggy always had a few stories about her when she visited. Steve returned straight to Tony’s side, but as he opened his mouth, the bells began chiming twelve minutes to midnight. Tony just pulled off his boots and thrust them at Steve.  
“Here, you’ll need this.”  
He ran out the ball bare foot and across the lawns. He hopped onto the already moving chariot and Thor and Jane galloped through the town. The clothes burnt away in a trail of cold embers, leaving him back in his scratchy sack. Thor and Jane began changing back into dogs, and the chariot was twisting and writhing underneath Tony’s feet. He jumped off and watched as it became a mound of blueberries and a tangle of vines and leaves. And so they walked a good half of the journey back. They finally reached the path to the blacksmith’s cottage, Tony munching on salvaged blueberries as Thor and Jane ran ahead barking. Letting his thoughts trail to fairy-tales. Why does the shoe always remain? Coulson had transformed all his other clothes and those had changed back. Why did the shoe stay glass, or in this case metal? He could hear Darcy’s giggles and he turned to see his father’s black coach behind him on the road, horses trotting diligently in front of it.  
“Boy, what are you doing?”  
“The dogs required a walk,” the lie falling easily from his tongue.  
“Very well, make us tea upon your return to the cottage.”  
Tony took a shortcut and had Tea and Toast ready for his father when he burst in the door.  
“You should have seen your sisters, my boy. They were resplendent, why I wouldn’t be surprised if the Prince comes by tomorrow to beg for one of their hands.”  
Darcy just giggled again, her cheeks flushed.  
“Oh please _father_ , neither of us wish to marry such a man. It appears his interests do not lie with maidens. He did not dance with us nor look at us. His attention was entirely captured by the mystery prince.”  
Tony grinned at Nat throughout her speech, she just winked and grinned back.  
“Mystery prince? What a charming notion.”  
“And notion it will remain. The prince was cast from the party, chased out by the palace guards. The prince cannot marry another man, for he must produce an heir. He is promised to the Princess Margaret of England. The Grand Director Nicolas told me himself.”  
“No he didn’t,” Darcy giggled, “you were spyyyying.”  
“What is wrong with her?” Tony asked in an undertone to Natasha.  
“She discovered the joys of old-timey wine, sweeter than the modern stuff,” she whispered back.

 

“I have to find him.”  
“Look I know you want this whole ordeal over as soon as possible, I definitely do. But why on earth do we need Tony to do that?”  
“I take it you never read Cinderella, Clint?”  
“Nah, I was in the circus doing acrobats when everyone else was having nursery rhymes read to them.”  
“Well, short version, girl is a servant, forbidden from going to the ball, goes anyway, meets prince, loses glass slipper, prince tracks her down with slipper, kiss, get married, happily ever after. Coulson told me we are in a twisted version of Cinderella.”  
“You’ve seen Coulson, thank god, how is he?”  
“Not happy. He’s Tony’s fairy god mother.”  
“Pfffft hahaha, having to deal with the drama queen.”  
“Tony is not a drama queen.”  
Clint just stared him down until Steve caved.  
“Okay, maybe he is a little. Regardless Tony is Cinderella and I am the Prince, I need to track him down and…”  
“Oh god, you don’t have to kiss him do you?”  
“I might,” Steve said blushing bright red.  
“Poor you. And by the way thanks for making me captain of the guard. Leader of the warriors Three and Lady Sif is a cool job.”  
“Do they know we are trapped in a fairy tale?”  
“They aren’t Cap. I mean Your Highness.”  
“Please don’t call me that. And what do you mean they aren’t?”  
“They aren’t. Everyone in this universe is someone one of us knows, or has seen. The only ones who know are us lot from movie night. So who is that, you, me, Tony, Nat, Coulson, Darcy, Thor, Jane, Banner. We are the only ones who know we are trapped.”  
Three high pitched giggles sounded above them. Three young figures appeared out of thin air, draped in dark cloaks and wearing masks in the shape of skulls.  
“Very good, archer. But you need to hurry up. You have until midnight or you are stuck in fairy tale land forever.”  
“Who are you?”  
“We are the Brothers Grimm.”  
With that they vanished into thin air. Clint cursed loud and low.  
“I don’t think they meant midnight here, that would leave us with too much time for evil bast- villains like them.”  
“Careful of your language, no swearing around royalty. What time did we start the film?”  
“I think it was about 8:30. Darcy picked urrrrgh…”  
“What?”  
“She picked that new Cinderella film. Dammit Darcy.”  
“Okay, how long does it take for days to change in films?”  
“Varies, years flew by in five minutes and a day took 10. And it’s the massive build-up part so I’m going to guess the ball scene plus us talking has taken plus whatever character back story Tony got has been about two hours.”  
“So time goes slower here?”  
“Yep, but you have to find Tony in the next hour and a half.”  
“And I have to search the whole kingdom to do so.”  
“Says who?”  
“The fairy-tale.”  
“They made you and Tony the romantic couple, really don’t think Thing 1, 2 and 3 care much for accuracy.”  
“Fair point actually. I need to deal with Fury, take yourself and your entourage to the towns and find out which one he’s in.”

 

Fury was wasting time. Steve needed to help the search.  
“Look, the princess did not wish to marry me so I let her go. Seriously, go ask her.”  
“Your Highness, you cannot marry a prince. We need an heir.”  
“We could adopt.”  
“Adopt?”  
“Is that not a thing here? Other countries, more advanced kingdoms allow for the royal couple to adopt. The Prince and I would simply raise an orphaned child as our own.”  
“My King, it is not tradition. And with her highness’ passing the kingdom would certainly be more secure with an heir of royal blood.”  
“Regardless I trust my instincts and they tell me that this Prince will aid the kingdom in ways we cannot yet fathom.”  
And with that Steve left.

 

It didn’t take Clint long to find Tony. Mainly because it didn’t take him long to find Tasha. He dismissed the Warriors Three and Lady Sif for the night (where they got absolutely out of their minds drunk at the local tavern) and went to meet Nat. She stood by an old well, wood decaying. Her hair shone in the moonlight, red turned black and silver in the darkness.  
“Hey Nat.”  
“Hey Clint, how’s the prince?”  
“King now, since his mother’s passing.”  
“Oh dear, well either way Tony is in the cottage down this road,” she waved her hand behind her, indicating to the beaten dirt track leading into the forest.  
“Great, just need to get His Highness and then we will be back home. Oh, ever heard of the Brothers Grimm?”  
“No, I cannot say I have.”  
“Three kids who seemed to have trapped us here. We have until midnight to get out or we are stuck here forever.”  
She rolled her eyes. “ _Great,_ so I am guessing that it isn’t in here time since it has been about twenty minutes of you talking to me and,” bells chimed in the distance, “midnight has just struck.”  
“Nope we have about an hour, by my estimates, left of real world time.”  
“Get Steve, I’ll get Tony. On your way make Banner gather the townsfolk to the square for the morning. There is always a big finish in these sorts of films.”

 

Everyone was gathered in the square, from Banner and Betty to Thor and Jane. Crowds surrounded the fountain where the King stood with his Captain of the Guard. The Captain was scanning the crowds eagerly, clearly waiting on someone to arrive. Two women were pushing roughly through the crowd, with two men trailing behind them. He smacked the king around the head and point to the four people. The shorter male stepped forward. He glanced into Steve’s eyes and grinned, open and beaming.  
“Your Highness,” he exclaimed before sweeping into a low bow, “I understand that you have called for my audience. But I am not a prince, not a duke, nor a count. I am not even a blacksmith. I am an apprentice learning his trade. And I cannot guarantee that those lovely boots will fit. But if you will have me my king, then I am yours solely and truly.”  
Steve smiled at him and took a step forward, holding onto the boots. Tony took a seat on the edge of the fountain as Steve kneeled at his feet. He slipped off the leather shoes and began sliding the boots onto his feet. A perfect fit. Steve and Tony smiled at each other. Steve offered his hand pulling Tony to his feet. The metal echoed on the cobblestone street.  
“May I present my groom-to-be, the Iron Prince.”  
The entire town started clapping and cheering. Tony leaned forward and whispered into Steve’s ear.  
“Not iron, they are a gold titanium alloy.”  
“Iron Prince has a nicer ring to it. Would you prefer gold titanium alloy prince?”  
Tony just answered with a snort of laughter and a murmur of “Captain Sassy-pants”. He leaned up, eyes fluttering closed as Steve bent down. Their lips met, soft and chaste, befitting of any fairy-tale.

 

“Ahem.”  
Tony and Steve pulled away, circled by a group of amused superheroes and friends. Tony’s hands were fisting Steve’s jacket and one of Steve’s hands was on Tony’s waist, the other cupping the back of his neck, pulling Tony closer against him. They both jumped away from the other, like an electric shock coursed through their body. Back in the entertainments room with the main menu for Cinderella flickering in the background. A shrill beep of Tony’s phone indicated midnight had just struck. They stared at Nat and Darcy, both dressed in their ball gowns. Banner was dressed in a simple but well-tailored purple suit with silver fastenings and black trousers. Thor was in full armour, silver and shining, with Jane next to him in a pale pink ball gown. Clint had a bow in his hands, renaissance style. Coulson was dressed in his usual suit and tie, inspecting his taser with a bemused look. Steve was still a gorgeous sight in blue, a red neck scarf draped around him.  
“And they all lived happily ever after,” came a softly pitched voice from the couch.  
The Brothers Grimm were all sat down, eating the last of the popcorn. Battle Stances were adopted by everyone in the room.  
“Woah, woah calm down.”  
The children held their arms up, black mist trailing from their palms.  
“Mutants,” Clint muttered.  
One disappeared and reappeared by Clint’s side.  
“We actually prefer genetically varied.”  
The tallest stood, mist ceasing to flow.  
“Look please we meant no harm, there was no _actual_ chance of you getting stuck, we were going to slow time if we needed. We just had to give you motivation. You have to admit you had fun attending the ball.”  
Everyone nodded reluctantly. The smallest piped up behind him, a distinctly female voice.  
“Sorry, we really didn’t mean to cause panic. And I wanted to leave you with a present. So clothes, and well, a really cool taser and bow. I’m sorry.”  
Tony just laughed.  
“Well you owe us a movie night but no harm no foul. And I do rather like the boots. Why do you call yourself Brothers Grimm? I mean you’re a girl.”  
She grinned, pearly teeth showing under her mask.  
“Sounds better than the Siblings Grimm doesn’t it?”  
“Yeah it does. But how about some real names now.”  
“Just because you gave up your secret identity Iron Man, doesn’t mean we all want to.”  
“At least go to Xavier’s school for, urm what was the wording, the genetically varied.”  
She looked across to her brothers, both appearing at her side. They all grinned, the effect creepy with the masks and cloaks, it didn’t help that their eyes remained unreached by the smile.  
“Nah, but we’ll consider a name change,” one of the boys laughed.  
“Poison Apple?” the girl suggested.  
Her hood fell revealing black hair, the tips fading up into cherry red. Her skull mask transformed into intricate wires and feathers. Her black cloak matched her hair, dark then trailing down into a deep crimson.  
“Looks good but are you planning on being a villain? With a name like that you sound evil.”  
She just smiled.  
“I prefer to fight stereotypes than be one.”  
“So not a villain.”  
“No Mr Stark.”  
“But not a hero either?”  
“Nope, we are our own people.”  
“What are your powers?”  
The three glanced between each other, looking as confused as the other.  
“Not sure, seems mostly tied up in matter manipulation and telepathy. My brothers can teleport, I have telekinesis. Although they can teleport other people and things. Speaking of-”  
One of the boys grabbed her then they were all gone. The room was struck dumb, staring at the empty space that once held the children who fucked with their minds.  
“So new allies or…”  
Natasha looked thoughtful.  
“I don’t think so, just not enemies.”  
Darcy just flopped onto the sofa, dragging Jane with her and restarted the film.  
“What? I wanted to see it and those twerps aren’t going to stop me.”

 

After the film, Tony managed to corner Steve in the corridor.  
“About the kiss, I’m sorry Steve. I thought it would get us home and hey it worked. But like it was just a means to an end, you get that right?”  
This was good, maintain your distance, don’t get in too deep. Something flashed across Steve’s face, too fast to say what it was.  
“Yeah I get it Tony, all part of the job.”  
“Right, okay then.”  
Both men turned away, swallowed their disappointment and walked to their respective rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I was watching the new Cinderella film when this idea came to mind. Hope you enjoyed.  
> Here are the outfits in question.  
> Tony's: http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/38300000/Cinderella-2015-Film-Prince-Charming-Kit-Uniform-Outfit-Cosplay-Costume-cinderella-38336789-390-350.jpg  
> Steve's: http://cosplaysky.com/media/catalog/product/cache/1/image/800x1200/9df78eab33525d08d6e5fb8d27136e95/c/i/cinderella-2015-film-prince-charming-attire-outfit-cosplay-costume.jpg


	9. Don't EVER Challenge Clint to Mario Kart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken forever to get this one posted, finishing off uni exams and moving back home for the summer took up time, hope you all enjoy :)

# Chapter 9 - Don’t EVER Challenge Clint to Mario Kart

 

“Hey, what’chu playing?” Tony asked, jumping over the back of the couch and landing with a slight bounce on the cushions.  
“Mario Kart, now shut up,” Clint said, not breaking eye contact with the screen.  
“Rainbow Road? Really? It’s like the cliché of Mario Kart. There’s that one asshole who always suggests rainbow road.”  
“You think you could do better?”  
“Yes. Absolutely.”  
Clint paused the race and turned to look at Tony.  
“Wanna try?”  
“Oh,” Tony said, mouth curling into a smug snarl, “definitely.”  
“Alright, bring it on.”  
Clint tossed him a Wii remote and set up a vs race.

 

Fourteen hours later, Barton and Tony were still racing frantically. They had acquired quite an audience with all the other Avengers gathered around them. Steve entered, having just come back from a run, white t-shirt damp from sweat. Tony’s eyes flicked up for the briefest second, causing him to drive off the edge of the course. When he was back on the track, he hit an item box and immediately released whatever his item was. There was an explosion of blue on screen.  
“BLUE SHELLED ME YOU BASTARD.”  
Tony just cackled as he zoomed past a load of other NPC racers and Clint. Clint was muttering mutinously and raced to catch up. He drifted around the corner, over-taking Tony right at the finish to an outburst of swearing. Steve was drinking from a bottle of water, Tony’s eyes flicking up as a drop of water slid down the sweat slicked skin to Steve’s Adam’s apple, bobbing as he swallowed. Tony let out a whimper.  
“You must be doing that on purpose,” he exclaimed angrily, causing everyone in the room to jump.  
“Doing what?” Steve said, slightly affronted.  
Tony shook his head, trying to banish his thoughts. He looked a tad embarrassed at his outburst.  
“Never mind. Not important.”  
Natasha snorted in laughter, which spread to Thor and Bruce. Steve just looked perplexed. Natasha covered it by grabbing two spare controllers, tossing one to Steve.  
“If you are going to play, you are going to let us play.”  
No one argued and soon Natasha and Steve were caught up in frantic bouts of races, swapping every couple of hours with Thor and Banner.

 

“Fuck, _fuck, FUCK_.”  
“Language Cap.”  
“Shut up Tony,” came Steve’s reply, tongue poking slightly out of his mouth in concentration.  
“Fire your blue shell Cap.”  
Steve fired it, striking down Natasha. The three other racers stopped immediately as her eyes flashed dangerously.  
“Don’t patronise me, fucking drive.”  
They resumed play, everyone driving like their lives depended on it. Steve and Natasha both stopped after a few hours, wondering where Clint and Tony got the stamina. They could see Clint visibly flagging but Tony was still going strong. Uh oh. Steve needed to intervene before Tony hit stubborn tired. Stubborn tired over video games would last unhealthily long. Steve clapped his hands at the end of the race, drawing the attention of the room.  
“Next race, Tony versus Clint. Sudden death, winner is declared the official king of Mario Kart.”  
Tony and Clint grinned at each other and set up one final go around Rainbow Road. Steve sat back on the couch and watched the idiots racing around a track. Natasha gracefully flopped down next to him.  
“When you woke up in the future, did you ever think _this_ would be your life?” she asked, gesturing around the room.  
“No, but I also never anticipated genetically varied sending us into a fairy-tale realm or an honest-to-god God from a different realm opening a portal to yet another realm, or space, I’m still not quite certain, and a bunch of aliens to come flying out. I’m nothing if not adaptable.”  
“Still, must have been quite a change.”  
Steve watched fondly for a moment, Tony’s eyes bright with excitement and his cheeks flushed with concentration.  
“I’m happy with where I am.”  
A howl interrupted their conversation. Tony had sunk to the floor on his knees while Clint had his arms held aloft, victorious.  
“I will never hear the end of this. I bet I can beat you at Gran Turismo.”  
Steve groaned, he wanted them both to go to bed.  
“You’re on, what do you wager?”  
“I’m staying out of it this time,” Steve said.  
Clint looked disappointed.  
“I enjoyed the show, though.”  
“I think we can all agree we enjoyed the show, but no more bets,” Natasha said sharply.  
Clint just pointed at her in excitement.  
“You win Gran Turismo and get a kiss on the cheek from Nat.”  
Tony just turned to Nat, who nodded. He then turned to a decidedly nervous looking Banner. Tony smiled dejectedly and mouthed a ‘fine, won’t involve you’.  
“Alright and if you win I will completely refurbish the archery range.”  
“You are _so_ on.”  
Steve just placed his head in his hands. This was looking like a long couple of days and if Tony lost it would be even longer for the live-in tech support. Tony set up the game and they were just about to start racing around the longest track with nine hundred and ninety-nine laps. Tony grinned at Clint.  
“Hope you got the stamina, sweetheart.”  
“Baby, I can go all night. Sure you can handle this?” Clint drawled.  
“Oh sweetie, I’ll have you begging for mercy.”  
Steve swallowed hard at the smooth tone of Tony’s voice, the way his eyes were lit with challenge, the way his mouth moved, slowly forming each taunting word carefully. He was staring, he knew he was but Tony’s attention was elsewhere so he couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away. Tony and Clint were standing chest to chest, both smirking at the competition.  
“Enough testosterone boys, get playing. Steve, should we make them food?”  
“Yeah, let’s see what we got.”  
Steve and Natasha walked to the kitchen, cooking up a storm. Steve could only ever handle basic recipes, fresh produce. Natasha however was used to cooking, having had to do several missions undercover that required culinary skills. She grabbed a load of things from the fridge, tossing a chopping board at Steve.  
“Get dicing, then go shower.”  
Obediently he chopped and left to go shower. He returned thirty minutes later to the smell of fried meat and sweet and sour sauce.  
“Smells good.”  
“Well Clint’s is better but he’s still acting like a teenager.”  
Steve glanced into the entertainments room and sure enough Clint and Tony were still racing. Well Tony was. Clint was half asleep, having been lapped by Tony several times by now. Tony yawned purposefully, indicating how bored he was with the proceedings. Nat brought in a massive bowl of stir fry and dished out portions to Steve and Clint, Tony refusing to eat six times despite Natasha’s forceful demands. Clint, now with a full stomach, fell asleep with the controller in his hand. Tony just plucked it from his grasp and completed both races at the same time. He got to the final lap, him and Barton just past the finish line before shaking the assassin awake. Not the best idea, but sleep deprived Tony often lacked self-preservation instincts (well, even more so than regular Tony). Natasha’s quick reflexes caught Barton’s arm before he could hit Tony for jolting him awake. He scrubbed a hand down his face and turned to face Nat.  
“Thanks Tasha, Jesus Tony, I have told you before not to do that. I could have done some serious damage.”  
Tony snorted in response, “I could have defended myself from that, Natasha and Steve have been training with me.”  
“Where are you finding the time to do all of this?” Steve asked curiously.  
After Tony’s last bout of sleep he had six training sessions with Steve; seven with Natasha; designed several different materials to test against the Hulk; and reinforced everything for Thor. The man just didn’t sleep.  
“Dunno, maybe geniuses just find more hours in the day.”  
“Yeah, by not sleeping,” Barton growled at him.  
“I sleep. I slept- Jarvis when did I last sleep?”  
“Approximately 3 days, 2 hours, and 13 minutes ago sir.”  
“See, I sleep.”  
Everyone around him just facepalmed.  
“We going to race or what?”  
“Wait, you got me to the last lap?”  
“Yeah, should have known you couldn’t keep up with me.”  
Clint was raring to go now, but Tony outstripped with ease. He just knew more about cars than Clint, something Clint failed to factor in when agreeing to race Tony. As Tony put it, Clint went for style, Tony chose substance. Tony had finished his lap by the time Clint got just past halfway.  
“So, I am the King of Gran Turismo?”  
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll give you that one. Nat, the bet?”  
“Alright, fine.”  
Tony looked uncertain, taking a step away as she got to her feet.  
“You don’t have to, it’s your choice but don’t feel forced or pressured.”  
“Tony, no one, not even Clint, can force me to do something I don’t want to do,” she smirked at him.  
She stood on tiptoe, tiny without her usual heels, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. He grinned soppily down at her, blushing rouge and really enjoying the height difference for a moment (finally he was taller than someone). Clint was grumbling in the corner, whining about his lack of a new archery range.  
“You know I’m going to build it anyway right?”  
Clint whooped in joy. Then he paused. “Wait, why? I lost.”  
“You were hardly a challenge so I got bored racing. Been designing it in my head for the last 162 laps. Wouldn’t want to see my ingenuity go to waste would you?”  
“Hell no Stark, thanks.”  
Clint pulled Tony into a hug, Tony looking awkward and trying to pull away as quickly as possible.  
“It’s nothing, don’t expect much from the rebuild.”  
“ _You_ designed it,” Clint replied as if that made everything better, and in everyone’s (except Tony’s) opinion, it did.  
“Another game?” Tony asked, quickly switching off-topic.

 

Ten hours later Clint and Tony were still playing Super Smash Bros Brawl. They were on infinite time and it had become impossible to get them off the console. Everyone had tried. Coulson had tried egging Clint into going to bed, Thor bribing them with Poptarts, Bruce threatening to sedate them and have Steve drag them to bed, Steve actually trying to drag them both to their respective rooms. But trying to drag a skilled assassin and a determined engineer. Well. It hadn’t worked out well. Clint was now playing from the air vent and Tony had built some kind of fort out of the furnishings. Sensing defeat the others watched them play.  
“Stop spamming thunder!”  
“It’s a legitimate technique, just because you picked the archer with the fluffy wings!”  
“HE IS PITT. HAVE YOU NEVER PLAYED KID ICARUS?”  
“Nah,” Tony replied with a blasé tone, “never liked archers.”  
Only the tell-tale slight quirk of his mouth belied his words.  
“Yeah and I never liked idiots who rely on one set of moves the entire time. Stupid fucking Thunder! Time to switch up the repulsors once in a while.”  
“Why fix what isn’t broke? And it’s like you’ve never played Pokemon, of course I am beating you. Pikachu over Pitt any day, electric beats flying.”  
Natasha walked into the room, towelling her hair dry.  
“I’ve been gone for six hours, how are they still playing?”  
“It would appear that they are a little competitive,” Banner said, his tone wry.  
Natasha walked over to the console and switched it off, right as Clint caught Tony in a Super Smash. As the screen flickered and died, the wii remote was launched across the room (after an over dramatic gesture of annoyance from Clint, this is why you use the wrist straps), impaling into the TV. The white remote stuck out comically.  
“GOD-FUCKING-DAMMIT-ALL I WAS SO CLOSE TO BEATING HIM.”  
“Fuck you, I will-“  
“You will what?” she asked sweetly, though her eyes were full of ice and fire.  
“I will call Pepper, no wait RHODEY on you.”  
Stark picked up the nearest phone and dialled.  
“Rhodeeeeeey, ‘Tasha interrupted Super Smash Bros. Tell her off.”  
He then chucked the phone at Natasha before jumping behind the couch. She caught it deftly, raising the phone to her ear. Murmured conversation that Steve could just pick up with serum enhanced senses.  
“And how long has it been since he’s slept?” came Rhodey’s exasperated voice.  
“Jarvis?”  
“3 days, 12 hours, 47 minutes, Miss Romanoff.”  
“Manic, Stubborn, Hysterical, or Point 72.”  
Apparently someone (probably Pepper) had informed Rhodey of the ‘Tony Stark Sleep Scale’ (patent pending).  
“Stubborn.”  
“And you let him play video games?”  
“I didn’t let him, he challenged Clint.”  
“Oh dear, get Jarvis to lock down all equipment in the workshop and you need to distract him with something else. He won’t tire of video games, trust me, MIT with him was a pain. I was drowning in work and he was playing Galaga. Anyway. He will either play until he collapses or try to invent something from whatever game he’s played. Which reminds me, keep him away from Portal. If anyone can make GlaDos, he can. Got to go.”  
“Thank you Rhodes.”  
Tony peered over the edge of the couch.  
“What? No yelling?” he asked disappointedly.  
“Get your ass to bed Tony.”  
Between them Natasha, Steve, and Bruce had blocked off all escape routes. Well, all but one. Clint just tapped Tony’s arm and offered him a hand. He pulled Tony up into the air vent and together they crawled away from the disapproving Assassin, giggling hysterically as only sleep deprived people do.

 

Screams resounded through the lobby of Stark tower. No one would have believed that the ex-CEO, certified genius that he was, was dressed in sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt and screaming at a master marksman while waving a Playstation controller (and himself) about wildly as he tried to dodge the archer’s virtual bullets. Pepper’s heels clacked across the marble floor as she walked over to where Tony had commandeered one of the screens. The others around him flashed various new channels. Her sharp eyes caught Tony tensing at the sound of her shoes, trying to make himself smaller, but he made no effort to move or even turn around. Employees walked straight past without batting an eyelid, everyone used to the eccentricities of their old boss and his team. At Pepper’s approach the gathering crowd grew silent. She strode in front of the screen, effectively blocking the game from view. Both the engineer and archer stared through her and continued playing.  
“Tony, perhaps you want to continue this game upstairs.”  
Tony ignored the order, biting his lip as he made a very difficult shot that forced Clint to fall back.  
“Can’t,” came his short reply.  
“And why not Mr Stark?” Pepper asked, voice hinting at growing danger.  
“TVs broken upstairs, waiting on new one,” Clint said followed by a triumphant yelp as he killed Tony.  
“Clint broke it,” Tony followed.  
“Well I know how you hate the company appearing unprofessional so I thought maybe you’d like to continue your game upstairs.”  
“Not unprofessional, no one’s here, it’s night, no one’s here at night, since it’s night time,” Tony babbled, transfixed by the game.  
“Yeah night,” Clint echoed.  
“Tony, how long have you been playing?”  
“Like an hour.”  
“Okay, what time did you come down here?”  
Tony glanced at Clint who mouthed ‘twelve thirty’ at him.  
“Just after midnight.”  
“Tony it is two o’clock in the afternoon.”  
“hunah-wha?”  
“Two o’clock. So upstairs or I am calling Steve,” Pepper said, flipping her phone out.  
“We can’t save yet, we need to finish,” Clint moaned.  
“Can’t save,” Tony parroted.  
“Right, I’m calling Steve.”  
She dialled, the phone ringing once before it was picked up.  
“Steve, I need your help with Tony,” she said, Steve’s voice covering her own.  
“Pepper, thank god, have you seen Tony?” Steve said in sync, louder voice and panic covering her words, “he went missing in the air vents with Clint and he must have told Jarvis not to tell us where he is but we can’t find him and neither of them are answering their phones and what if he’s collapsed in the air vents and Clint is in no shape to move him and Tony hasn’t slept for over four days and-“  
“He’s with me Steve,” Pepper managed to break in when Steve paused for breath, “meet me in the lobby.”  
The elevator rocketed down, Steve stepping out looking panicked. Pepper gestured over her shoulder to where the pair were sat on the reception couch, staring at the screen without blinking. Another yell of glee and Clint was doing what Steve could only describe as a poorly choreographed victory dance. Tony was yelling about a rematch and a new game. Steve released a sigh of relief before striding over to the troublesome duo. He simply hoisted Tony over his shoulder (being incredibly careful of the arc), who gave a gasp of surprise and started protesting loudly. Clint, seeing what had happened to his playing partner, grabbed at and started unplugging the Playstation, clutching it and the remotes protectively to his chest. Steve simply picked him up and carried him under his arm.  
“Steve put me down, Jarvis make Steve put me down.”  
“Short of harming the Captain I cannot force, coerce or otherwise attempt to get the Captain to release you. Would you like me to-“  
Tony yelped, “no don’t hurt him!”  
Steve grinned a little, the AI was right. He couldn’t be coerced but Tony could.  
“Steeeeeve, come on. We were just playing. Come on, put me down. Steeeeeeeve,” Tony whined, wheedling voice tugging a little at Steve’s heartstrings.  
Steve carried them into the elevator and Jarvis carried them straight up to their personal floors. Steve handed off Clint to Coulson, who stood waiting when the elevator doors opened. Clint’s protests ceased as they switched, apparently having no qualms to being carried away by Coulson. Tony still made the occasional protest, until Steve threw him on the bed.  
“Oh Captain, if I knew you wanted to get me into bed I would have come upstairs so much sooner.”  
Steve blushed a delicious shade of pink.  
“To sleep Tony. You need sleep.”  
Steve then shut the door, leaving Tony alone on the bed. Tony was up in a second.  
“Jarvis, where’s Steve and the others?”  
“Captain Rogers is outside your door, Natasha and Mr Odinson are currently in the gym, Dr Banner is in his lab and Agent Coulson is currently pacing in his room. Mr Barton’s location is unknown.”  
There was a tapping on the air vent hidden in the wall.  
“Air vent it is then.”

 

“No, no, NO,” Clint yelled as he lost to Tony (again).  
“Well you’re dead, and I am alive.”  
“It’s ‘Dead _OR_ Alive’ genius.”  
“Oh sweetie, you are just mad because you picked the game and I am boss at it.”  
“Yes, that is exactly why I am mad,” Clint said through gritted teeth as Tony won the third and final battle in seconds.  
Suddenly the team whipped into the workshop, a tornado of fury. Tony and Clint were both pinned to the sofa, Phil’s eyes aflame and Natasha’s a cold fury.  
“You. Are. Going. To. Bed.”  
Pulling Natasha’s hand off his mouth, Tony, foolishly, chose to argue.   
“We are tied. We wouldn’t be if you hadn’t turned of Super Smash Bros but we are tied. You really want to let Clint win? Really? Imagine the horror.”   
And Tony was stubborn, he kept up his tirade of protest, joined by Clint who also agreed that should he win he would be a horror. Steve was the first to capitulate.   
“One more game, and only if you eat something.”   
“And I set the rules,” Natasha added.   
Clint and Tony looked at each other and nodded, noting the other’s tired eyes.   
“Alright, one more game.”   
After having been forced into eating something by Steve, they waited for Natasha’s verdict on what game.   
“Wii Sports Tennis match. Two versus Two. Clint and Phil versus Tony and Steve.”   
Everyone looked happy with the results and Thor went up to grab the Wii from the entertainments room. Steve and Tony pushed work benches and equipment to the sides, leaving a wide open space in front of the monitor. Wii remotes were passed and the match, best of five, was set up. It happened about halfway through the second match (the first having gone to Tony). There was a grunt as someone swung. Clint had frozen, his mouth dropping open as he turned to the man next to him. He swallowed hard then served the ball. The ball rallied back and forth before another grunt which won them the point. Clint served again, his mouth forcibly having to be closed as he stared at his partner. The ball rallied then another deeper grunt from closer to Tony. Everyone stared at Steve as the point was claimed for Team Tony.   
“What?”   
Tony just whined. Clint hit Phil on the arm.   
“I’m pretty sure you are doing this on purpose.”   
“I have no idea what you mean.”   
They played in silence for a few moments before Phil groaned at a lost point. Soon the match picked up pace a lot faster, Clint playing with the desperation of a man drowning. Each of Steve’s groans had Tony whimpering slightly, and every one of Coulson’s pants had Clint twitching almost unnoticeably. After a good thirty minutes of stalemate Clint threw his hands in the air.   
“Fuck this, I have better things to do.”   
He grabbed hold of Coulson, sweeping him up caveman style and left. But not before leaving Tony with a parting gift.   
“Whatever you do, don’t think about the way he lifted you over his shoulder.”   
And now Tony could think of nothing but. Being swept up by Steve and seeing what else he could do to get Steve to elicit those, and much filthier, noises. Other people were talking but, though he could hear them, the words didn’t seem to matter.   
“So Clint forfeits and Tony wins.”   
“Do you think Agent Coulson was doing that on purpose?”   
“Almost definitely.”   
“But hey, Tony you won.”   
“Tony?”   
“TONY?”   
Someone was shaking his shoulders, trying to drag him from his daydream.   
“-ny, Jesus, TONY. Are you okay?”   
“huh, wha?”   
“Yeah he’s fine,” Banner called across the room.   
Tony was swaying on his feet, five days of no sleep finally starting to settle in his bones.   
“He’s flushed though, pupils dilated, he might have a fever.”   
“Well, put him to bed then,” Banner said mischievously.   
“Right, bed.”   
And just like that Steve swept Tony into his arms, bridal style and carried Tony up to his bedroom. Tony wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist, pulling into the warmth of Steve’s broad chest.   
“God, Tony. You’re shivering. Sleep. Now.”   
“Mmhmm,” Tony agreed, already dozing in Steve’s arms.   
“What am I going to do with you?” Steve asked, fondly exasperated.   
No answer came, other than a gentle snore as Steve set Tony down in his bed, drawing the covers around him.


	10. Karaoke Kid

# Chapter 10 - Karaoke Kid

They definitely needed to update the TSSS (Tony Stark Sleep Scale™). So far they’d seen: pre-coffee; normal human being; manic inventive; stubborn angry; stubborn ignoring; stubborn silent treatment; stubborn self-denial; hysterical paranoia; hysterical laughter; hysterical nonsense; just plain hysterical; and the previously named Point 72, recently renamed apocalyptic by Pepper since Tony had accidentally hacked into SHIELD and sent photoshopped pictures of Nick Fury as a pirate to every employee resulting in Fury trying to find a way to legally kill Stark. But they currently didn’t have a name for this. A combination of manic but not inventive, with a touch of stubborn self-denial coupled with alcohol. Not a good mix. But at least it was understandable. And it led to some rather bizarre events. Like Tony singing.

 

It had been a god-awful week, the last fight in particular was horrible. Both Clint and Natasha had ended up in SHIELD medical for several hours, dealing with assorted sprains and lacerations and bruises. Steve had been knocked off a building and if it wasn’t for Clint’s fast thinking and Tony’s ability to adapt on the fly, well, there might not have been a Steve. Bruce had accidentally hulked and it had taken Tony to talk him down. Well he was the green guy’s favourite. Thor had managed to fight off whatever Alien, or monster, or megalomaniac – they all blurred into one these days - they had been facing that had been an inch from killing Tony as he got Banner to safety. That inch had still meant Tony was suffering a (thankfully) low level concussion, which had left him in a bed next to Natasha, to both their chagrin. Tony hadn’t slept, partly due to concussion watch and partly stubborn pig-headedness. Shortly after leaving medical Clint decided to hold an impromptu ‘Glad we aren’t dead’ party, inviting Jane along too for Thor. Soon drinks were flowing and music was playing. Tony was stood looking a little awkward, halfway hovering between the bar and his room.  
“MAN OF IRON,” Thor boomed, everyone covering their ears at his alcohol heightened voice.  
Tony turned sharply from where he was hovering by his room. He wanted to drink, something to block out the horrible week and the pain and the flashing memories of falling teammates, he’s just been doing so well at staying sober. But the moment Thor offered to let him try some Asgardian mead he had caved. A sip turned into a glass turned into a shot contest with Bruce, Natasha, and Clint. He knew he was very drunk now.  
“Okay, arms behind your back for this one. Use only your mouth.”  
“Why?”  
Tony rolled his eyes at Bruce, the heathen who had apparently never partied at college.  
“That’s how you do blowjobs.”  
Together they all leaned down, taking the shot glass into their mouths. Steve watched as his teammates finished their shots, heads coming back up one after the other. Bruce with a gasp, Clint with a flirtatious wink at a slightly red Coulson, and Natasha with a lick of her lips. Tony just trailed his tongue around the inside of the shot glass that remained in his mouth. He set it down gently after swallowing the cocktail shot, face smeared obscenely in whipped cream.  
“Tastes like chocolate milkshake.”  
And just like that, Steve was gone. He figured it was for the best if he took a breather out on the balcony.

 

Barely five minutes had passed before Tony had swayed over to his side. He was holding what looked like fire and sunsets.  
“Sex on the beach?” Tony offered, holding up his glass.  
“Uhmm,” Steve answered smartly.  
He’d come outside to avoid moments like this, where his self-control would be severely tested. Only the mantra of _don’t take advantage, Stark is drunk_ kept him from leaning down and kissing those pouting lips.  
“Shame, Natasha is good at Sex on the beach,” Tony slurred a little.  
Considering all he had drank, it was amazing he wasn’t slurring a lot. Though he was swaying on his feet, eyes not entirely able to focus on Steve.  
“Are you ‘kay? Like are you havin’ fun? ‘Cause you left and you’re out here and on your own…”  
Tony was looking at him, concern and worry and a whole host of emotions held in those big, expressive, round eyes as all his masks fell. Steve nodded in response and resumed his view of New York’s bright skyline. He felt a feeble tug at his arm. Tony had looped his hands around Steve’s wrists and was tugging at him, face bright with the ‘lightbulb’ look of someone who thought they had an amazing idea.  
“Come with me, I want to show you something.”

 

Tony was sat at a piano. What’s more, Tony could play the piano. The room had fallen silent, except for the gentle melody of Beethoven’s Moonlight sonata. As the tune faded, the room applauded. Tony looked startled, unaware that everyone had been listening since he had become so lost in the rhythm.  
“What?” Tony asked into the silence, “I don’t have this here just for decoration. My mother taught me how to play.”  
Steve sat down on the piano bench next to him, watching intently as Tony’s hands moved elegantly across the keys. Tony’s eyes were closed, everything down to pure muscle memory. Clint wandered over and left another colourful cocktail on top of the piano. Tony reached up and snagged it, never ceasing his playing. Once he had drained the glass, he tossed it over his shoulder (caught quickly by Steve who set it down behind him). Tony’s voice suddenly broke across the almost silence of the room, warm and smooth and mellifluous.  
“ _Smile, though your heart is aching. Smile, even though it’s breaking. When there are clouds in the sky, you’ll get by. If you smile through your fear and sorrow, smile and maybe tomorrow you’ll see the sun come shining through for you…”  
_ Everyone was transfixed, rooted to where they stood as they discovered yet another Stark talent. His face held a wistful smile as his fingers gently brushed each note.  
_“Hide every trace of sadness, although a tear may be ever so near. That’s the time you must keep on trying. Smile, what’s the use of crying? You’ll find that life is still worthwhile, if you just smile…”_  
The music slowly petered out and once more Tony was met with a loud round of applause that caused him to blush. He was swaying where he sat, though Clint still decided it would be a good idea to hand him yet another alcoholic concoction. Steve tried to take it from Tony’s hand but Tony just placed a hand on Steve’s face, pushing him away slightly and shushing him as he drank. Steve huffed a sigh, halfway between annoyed and amused. Tony stopped drinking at the noise, cup still half full.  
“Want to learn?” he offered, more coherent than what should be possible.  
Steve smiled and took Tony up on the offer. Tony took Steve hand and began explaining the keys, teaching him basic tunes. Steve picked it up easily enough, and Tony began teaching him how to read music.

 

Tony was soon caught up again, Steve watching as his fingers flicked over the keys. Tony’s voice flowed out once more, soft and low yet every word enunciated carefully. The room turned to him once more.  
“ _In my dreams you told me that you really really care. In my dreams you told me it’s a love that can’t compare. So hold me, hold me, hold me, and never ever let me go…”  
_ Clint grabbed Coulson and began waltzing them across the room. Thor bent into a sweeping bow, offering his hand to Jane. She accepted with a blush and was soon swept up in an Asgardian variant on the waltz. Natasha tapped Bruce on the shoulder but he politely declined, enjoying watching but not wishing to take part. Natasha sulked jokingly before appearing at Steve’s side. He accepted her hand a tad reluctantly, not wanting to allow himself to be pulled from Tony’s side. But Natasha seemed to really want to dance. He couldn’t turn her down. He spun her around, remembering every step Tony once taught him in a fantasy world. Though he had nothing on Natasha’s natural grace. They circled the room, full of warm, rich tones and a beautiful melody. Tony was playing with his same wistful smile, slight wetness to his eyes. He closed them, letting himself fade into the tune, voice strong as he continued singing.  
“ _It seems that dreams are sometimes make believe, but now I know oh that they are real. For in my dreams you said you love me and in reality you love me, love me, too…”_  
The song finished as softly as it started. There were cheers now, Tony turning a luminous red, though that may be partly to do with the alcohol.

 

“Hey, how about something more upbeat now?” Clint yelled at Tony cheerily from the arms of Coulson.  
“Oh am I taking requests now?” Stark arched his eyebrows, but his mouth quirked into a shy smile.  
Immediately his hands began flying in a fast pace across the piano. Natasha let out a half-formed shriek.  
“Oh my god, I know this one,” she exclaimed loudly, her eyes wild and happy.  
She pointed at Clint across the dance floor and they began dancing a wild cross between swing and country.  
“ _When I met you, I didn’t know what to do. I was tired. I was hungry. I fight…”_ Natasha began singing, her voice a rich blues sound.  
She grabbed hold of Steve and Banner, pulling them onto the dance floor.  
“ _You can see that life’s for us to talk about. You can leave whenever you want out. Ohwhoa,”_ Clint and Natasha sang in harmony.  
“ _You don’t relate to me, no girl. You don’t respect me, no girl. No girl, yeah_ …” Clint sang in his rustic warm voice.  
The notes stopped with a final beat, Natasha and Clint taking sweeping bows at the sound of the applause, Tony rising from the piano clapping. Clint threw his arms out to Tony, everyone clapping for the pianist. Natasha made another pitcher of cocktails, pouring everyone a glass. Steve set his down on the side and regretted it, because the moment he did Clint picked it up in a drunken haze and tipped half of it into Tony’s already empty glass then downed the rest himself. Tony was barely standing, stumbling all over the room as he made his way to the bar. He grabbed another few bottles, one clear and a few of various colours, before seating himself back behind the piano. He turned to Thor, eyes questioning.  
“Got a request, Thunderbolts and Lightning?”  
“ _Very very frightening_ ,” Clint and Jane sang in sync.  
“Me?” Thor asked, pointing at himself with a smile.  
Jane burst into peals of laughter, burying her face in his chest. Tony immediately began playing Queen to a cacophony of singing.  
“ _Mamaaaaa, just killed a man…”_  
_“Put a gun against his head…”_  
_“Pulled my trigger, now he’s dead…”_  
_“Mamaaaa, life had just begun, but now I’ve gone and thrown it all away…”_  
_“Mamaaaa ooooooooh…”_  
At the end, they were all out of breath and gasping at drinks.

 

A few minutes later and Tony and Clint were going again.  
_“And if you believe in ROCK AND ROLL…”_ Tony was singing at the top of his lungs, Clint’s arms wrapped around his shoulders.  
“ _I know that you’re in love with him, ‘cause I saw you dancing in the gym…”_ Clint sang in Tony’s ear, causing a deep beetroot blush across his cheeks and down his neck.  
Tony glared up at Clint pointedly, almost daring him to say something.  
“ _But I knew I was out of luck, the day the music died…”_ Clint continued singing, ignoring Tony’s looks.  
“And we’re singing-“ Tony intoned.  
“BYE BYE MISS AMERICAN PIE, TOOK THE CHEVY TO THE LEVY BUT THE LEVY WAS DRY. THEM GOOD OL’ BOYS DRINKING WHISKEY AN’ RYE SINGING THIS’LL BE THE DAY THAT I DIE, THIS’LL BE THE DAY THAT I DIE,” everyone sang at the top of their voice, except one person.  
It took a few moments before anyone noticed that Tony wasn’t singing. He continued playing the piano with fervour but he looked a little horrified at whatever thought came to his mind. Everyone looked over at Tony, who was shaking slightly. His voice wavered slightly as he spoke.  
“Don’t… Just… He almost… He fell and…”  
His drunken state couldn’t seem to comprehend his emotions, caught in a state of confusion and panic. Steve was across the room in two strides, only to see Banner had beaten him to it. He was sat close next to his quivering friend, shoulders bumping.  
“Shush Tony, we aren’t going anywhere. We’re all okay. It’s just lyrics okay?”  
Tony nodded and soon distracted himself with music again. Everyone found it somewhat frightening to see how quickly he was able to bury his emotions. Bruce just humorously shoved him backwards off the piano bench, where he landed with a thud and a groan. Banner began tapping the keys.  
“I’ll play for a bit, you go dance.”  
Steve offered his hand to help Tony up, Tony accepting gratefully.

 

Soon Banner was playing Journey, everyone belting out the lyrics to Don’t Stop Believin’. One of the few songs Steve actually knows. Everyone was dancing, Tony doing little hip shimmies with Natasha and grinning wide and genuine, all traces of his earlier fear gone in a heartbeat. He was laughing loud and dragging Steve up to dance.  
“Thank you Tony, you were right.”  
“I was?”  
“Yeah, I guess I wasn’t okay earlier. I didn’t even realise.”  
Tony just hummed, not a noise of acceptance or anything more than acknowledgement, refusing to accept the thanks for something that felt natural to him. Someone, Steve didn’t see who, had managed to sneak Tony yet another drink. A familiar tune began to fill the room, drawing Steve back to one particular memory. A darkened room - lit only by a hazy blue glow - with a lithe Tony settled on his lap, warm weight both comfort and pain. It seemed Tony followed a similar train of thought.  
“ _He’s so tall, and handsome as hell…”_ Tony murmured, moving closer to Steve.  
Tony’s voice was heady and intoxicating, like melted chocolate and liqueur. Tony looped his arms around Steve’s neck, standing on tiptoes to hide his face in Steve’s shoulder. The flutter of his eyelashes against Steve’s skin set his heart racing and his nerves on fire. His mantra from earlier came back at full force. _Don’t take advantage, Stark is drunk. Tony is drunk, this means nothing to him._ Tony was close, dangerously so, his entire body pressed against Steve. Steve tried to pull back but Tony’s whimper stayed him.  
“You’re very attractive y’know,” Tony said, alcohol making his tongue looser.  
“And you are very drunk,” Steve said, blushing agonisingly red.  
“Blush, s’cute, you should do that more,” Tony said, smiling adoringly up at him, only causing Steve to become a lovely magenta. “Yeah, like that, you’ll have all the girls lining up.”  
“Yeah right,” voice full of disbelief, “and I don’t particularly want to have all the girls lining up for me. There’s only one person I want.”  
Tony was stood impossibly close now, Steve would only have to lean forward an inch and they would be kissing. Tony was still looking up at him through impossibly long and dark eyelashes. His lashes dipped for a moment, covering the sweet chocolate eyes. They flashed back open with sudden urgency and he pushed roughly away from Steve before running at full pelt from the room, hand clasping his mouth.

 

Steve had tried to follow him, losing him the second the genius had hit the corridor. Glancing skywards Steve had called out softly.  
“Jarvis, where’s Tony?”  
“Sir is currently in the third guest bedroom’s bathroom Captain Rogers. I recommend your assistance, although sir is not currently in his most lucid state.”  
“I’ll manage, thanks Jarvis.”  
“You are most welcome, Captain.”  
Steve headed straight into the guest bedroom, finding Tony clasping the toilet, his head firmly hidden in the bowl. His whole body was quaking with retches. Steve settled down next to Tony, rubbing his back to help ease the muscles a little. After a few minutes, Tony managed to pull his head out, resting his cheek on the cool rim and breathing heavily through his mouth. His face was pale, a thin sheen of sweat glistening over him. Steve began to move to grab and wet a washcloth, until a hand snatched at his trouser leg.  
“ ‘m sorry. I almos’ ruined everythin’, I almost ki-“ Tony ducked his head back into the bowl, whole body convulsing.  
Steve wet the washcloth and when Tony had finished Steve wiped his face and arms, the coolness of the cloth relieving some of the pain.  
“ ‘m sorry Steve. Jus’ go. I almos’ ruined things. I do that.”  
Steve just shut the door and sat down next to Tony.  
“Why?” Tony looked curious, through the alcohol and the stomach pain.  
“Because you don’t ruin things. But you are an idiot who I like. Probably far more than I should, far more than is safe for my sanity. But I do, and I want you to be okay. And more importantly, I want you to be happy. Which you don’t seem to be.”  
Tony gave him a wry smile. Then he slumped into Steve’s lap, a puppet with cut strings. Steve was just gathering Tony into his arms when there was a soft knock on the door. Natasha pushed it open, taking stock of the situation a little slower than usual. She was very drunk, but she still had remarkable control, not showing the intoxication other than in her slower than normal movements.  
“Sorry. Me, Clint, and Thor were all handing him drinks. Mixing drinks, plus on an empty stomach. Bad news.”  
“It’s, well it’s not okay, but it is what it is. For now, go to bed unless you feel sick. Then I need you to get someone to check on you. I assume Coulson is keeping an eye on Clint so try Dr Banner.”  
She nodded and muttered another apology. Tony was still gripping tightly at Steve, a constant babble of apologies falling from his lips. Steve flushed the toilet and carried Tony over to the bed. Stripping Tony down to his boxers, he grabbed a fresh cloth, wetting it with warm water this time and swiping it over the smaller figure. He chucked the cloth in the vague direction of the bathroom, while running through all the first aid he’d ever learnt. He turned Tony on his side and pulled the covers up around him. Tony was still shivering. He hunted around the room, no blankets, or anything. Guest room, normally only stocked when they had guests round. And after that spate of vomiting, he really didn’t want to leave Tony alone, not even for a second. He searched the room again, only stopping when Tony snagged at him again. His limp tugs dragged Steve into bed. Tony pulled himself closer, his head tucking into Steve’s neck and his entire body pulling as close as possible. So close that the metal arc reactor, freezing cold, touched Steve’s skin. He let out a yelp that had Tony pull back, muttering apologies and fingers that started to claw at the device. Steve caught hold of Tony’s fingers, pulling them and his arm around his waist.  
“Sorry, Tony. I just wasn’t expecting it.” Tony shuffled closer again. “ ‘m sorry, I’m selfish. Please allow me this one night.”  
Steve just moved himself closer around Tony in response, throwing his legs over Tony’s to stop the genius squirming away.  
“I like you too y’know,” Tony whispered into his shoulder.  
“Probably not in the same way.”  
“Probably not. Better this way. I wreck things. I’d wreck you.”  
Tony fell asleep suddenly, breath warm and even against Steve’s skin.  
“I doubt it.”

 

Tony woke in considerably less pain than he deserved. Though his mouth tasted like something died in it. He blinked his eyes open and immediately regretted it. So bright. He curled back under the covers and vowed to not leave until it was dark. Only a faint melody drew him from his warm cocoon. Someone was playing his piano. He only ever played in the early hours when there was no one else to hear him. As he emerged from the warm duvet, he spotted two pills and three cold bottles of water, condensation running down their side. He grabbed the pills and a bottle of water, swallowing the tablets down and gulping at mouthfuls of the cool liquid. The start of his hangover headache was already fading as his body rehydrated. Scrubbing at his teeth, mouth now minty fresh, he downed the other two bottles before leaving the room. Staggering to the music, he found Steve sat at the piano.  
“I didn’t know you could play.”  
Steve looked confused for a moment and then his face dawned in realisation.  
“I take it you remember none of last night.”  
“Only up to the blowjobs, then nada.”  
“Yeah, well I’m not surprised.”  
“So what happened?”  
“You got very drunk, played the piano for us all and sang.”  
“Oh god,” Tony placed his head in his hands and wandered over to the bar.  
“Don’t worry, you have a nice voice. You also taught me how to play. So thank you.”  
Tony walked back to Steve’s side, uncapping a bottle of whiskey. Steve tried to grab it from him, only for it to be held out of reach.  
“The last thing you need is more alcohol.”  
“Well it’s not like it matters now is it?” Tony said, raising the half empty bottle to his lips.  
“Why not?”  
Tony lowered it again, bemused look on his face. “Well I failed didn’t I?”  
“Failed?”  
“The whole sobriety thing.”  
Steve just grabbed the bottle away, setting it behind him. He placed his hands on Tony’s face, blocking everything but Steve from view.  
“You didn’t fail, you relapsed. There is a massive difference. You only fail if you give up trying, and you are stronger than that. Do you understand me Tony?”  
Tony bit his lip and nodded, eyes watery. He shut his eyes for a moment, leaning heavily into Steve’s hand. When he opened them again, they were full of determination.  
“Come help me,” Tony asked, pulling Steve to his feet.  
He grabbed the bottle from the ground, and strode over to the bar, his gait resolute. He upended the whiskey over the sink, getting Steve to do the same with various other bottles. He stopped him with a few, telling him to put them to the side.  
“Unopened and really expensive. Auction them. Any money to whatever charity you want.”  
They set to work in silence for a while, clearing the bar of the stronger alcohols.  
“Why do you have an 85% proof bottle of vodka?”  
“The 90’s were a wild time.”  
“Is that even legal?”  
“It’s from Poland or Russia I think. Not for sale in the US.”  
They stacked the empty bottles, Tony clearly fumbling with something he wanted to say.  
“Thank you. For making sure I was okay last night, I’m assuming it was you. And… and for,” he gestured towards the now empty whiskey bottle, “I might have thrown it all away otherwise. And… sorry. For needing you to-“  
Steve pulled Tony into a hug, whispering into his hair.  
“You never have to apologise for needing me, okay? Or anyone for that matter.”  
Tony stiffened at first, the hug awkward for a second. Then he relaxed at the words. His arms hung limply by his side, but his head fell forward onto Steve’s shoulder.  
“Thank you.”  
Deliberately heavy footsteps caused them to spring apart.  
“Jesus Tony, you own the building, go get one of your many rooms.”  
Natasha had walked into the room, holding two cups of strong black coffee, offering one to Tony. He accepted gladly. Natasha was wincing slightly in the light but showed no other signs of a hangover.  
“You can sing really well.”  
Tony glanced over his cup, cheeks tinging pink.  
“Thank you.”  
“You can too,” Steve added.  
Natasha just smiled at him. She looked over at the piano, hope gleaming in her eyes. Tony sighed, and wandered over to the piano. Natasha smirked at him and he shot her a glare.  
“Can’t believe I am doing this hungover and sober.”  
But the moment his fingers touched the keys he lost himself to the music, gently drifting classical pieces to more up tempo modern pieces.  
“Steve, you go,” Tony called from the piano.  
Steve sat down next to him, quickly settling into the music himself, but without the natural feel Tony had. He began playing the song from earlier, his fingers skimming across keys. Tony’s warm voice broke into song, his eyes closed and clearly lost to the music.  
“ _It seems that dreams are sometimes make believe, but now I know oh that they are real. For in my dreams you said you love me and in reality you love me, love me, too…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Drinks:  
> The Blowjob - http://foodviva.com/kahlua-cocktails/blow-job-shot/  
> Sex on the Beach - http://stevethebartender.com.au/sex-on-the-beach-cocktail-recipe/  
> Please drink responsibly.  
> The Songs:  
> RDJ – Smile – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=buVevbf-GJQ  
> RDJ – In My Dreams – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RksJuRDI5pg  
> Scarlett Johansson & Pete Yorn – Relator – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RHGecjIgJ70  
> Queen – Bohemian Rhapsody – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BY2TskVxoek  
> Jeremy Renner – Miss American Pie – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BY2TskVxoek  
> Journey – Don’t Stop Believin’ – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1k8craCGpgs  
> Taylor Swift (Piano Cover) – Wildest Dreams – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mwgOwxd1WHc


	11. It Would Appear That There is a Superhero Convention in Town

# Chapter 11 - It Would Appear That There is a Superhero Convention in Town

“I don’t like it.”   
“Yes, you’ve made that very clear,” Steve said exhaustedly.   
“I don’t either,” Clint added.   
“Not you too.”   
“I am not fond of it either.”   
“Well you just don’t like military types,” Natasha stated.   
“With good reason,” Bruce shot back.   
“I’m going with him.”   
“That’s at least kind of reassuring. At least he’s got a Black Widow with him.”   
“I am perfectly capable on my own. Who do you think took down the Red Skull?”   
“The Howling Commandos,” Tony grinned at him.   
“And who led them?”   
“Dunno, I forget his name,” Tony’s grin grew ever wider, head cocked slightly to the side with a hint of sarcasm in his smile.   
All this fuss over Steve just going to visit the troops at an Army Camp. SHIELD suggested it as a morale boost for the soldiers and good press for the Avengers, make it seem like they did things other than just fighting. And Steve agreed. And the Camp had requested him.   
“It’s a new base but there has been no movement there at all. Doesn’t this just scream suspicious?”   
“Have you been spying on the place, Tony?”   
“Yes,” he said without shame.   
“Well, it’s a new base. Of course there isn’t much activity yet.”   
Tony narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. He looked angry. Scratch that, he looked somewhere between mutinous and murderous. Which wasn’t even close to what Tony was actually feeling. A sense of unease had settled in his stomach, a literal gut feeling that something bad was going to happen. He was worried and he hated being worried. Angry and paranoid was much easier.   
“Can I at least-“   
“No, you aren’t sticking trackers on me.”   
“What about-“   
“Or my bike. Really Tony, we will be fine. Just a basic PR thing.”   
Steve left the room, motioning for Natasha to follow. She waited for the briefest moment, until Steve was out of serum bolstered earshot.   
“I don’t like this either, that’s why I’m going with him. He can almost be as stubborn as you, Tony. Can you make me a GPS bracelet by lift-off?”   
“Who do you take me for?”   
“Reed Richards.”   
Tony made a strangled noise of betrayal.   
“Oh no wait, I am sorry, you _are_ Tony Stark. I get all confused when you act like an asshole,” she smirked at him.   
“Asshole? When did I act like an asshole?”   
“Most of the time, like Richards.”   
Tony scowled, “Your bracelet will be done in an hour.”

 

“Okay, so I may have gone a tad over the top.”   
“Черт возьми! Боже Мои, there must be hundreds here.”   
“Well the coding was easy enough and you didn’t tell me what you were wearing so it needs to match.”   
“True, if it stands out it will be targeted. Needs to match the occasion.”   
She had only been gone for two hours but there were now hundreds, maybe even thousands, of jewellery options. Earrings, bangles, bracelets, broaches, necklaces, lockets, chokers, anklets, rings, toe rings, watches. Simple, ornate, expensive, cheap, plastic, silver, gold, titanium, bejewelled, bedazzled, sparkly, plain, diamonds, rubies, sapphires, emeralds. How on earth had Tony managed to create all of this in two hours? She stared at him up and down and sure enough his hands held the tell-tale twitches of too much coffee in too short time. His fingers needed to work or at least tap annoyingly when he got like this. Natasha plucked a watch, black leather straps and silver face.   
“It’s got GPS, and measures your heart rate. If it drops too low or gets too high it will send an alert to Jarvis.”   
“Nice.”   
“It’s nothing special.”   
“You made all of this in two hours. That _is_ something.”   
“Don’t you have a Captain to go harass?”   
“I thought that was your job.”   
“Nope, this is my job. I’m Q in this operation.”   
Tony also made to tie up Natasha’s hair with a hairband, plastic black and silver flower attached. He tied it into a neat bun at the top of her head.   
“Okay, this contains nano-tech, smallest in existence. If signal alerts Jarvis, the cameras will activate. This at least allows us to know what is causing the change it heart rate.”   
“You really thought of everything.”   
“Not everything,” Tony scowled.   
“What do you mean?”   
“I still can’t get Steve to let me get a GPS on him.”   
“A little protective of your boyfriend.”   
“He’s not my boyfriend,” Tony spat out.   
“Shame, you’d make a cute couple,” Natasha said, doing that thing with her face that Tony hated (not quite a smirk, but a knowing laugh without laughing. How she managed to do that with her face, Tony would never know).   
“Haha, very funny. Just look after him, and yourself.”   
“I always do. And we won’t be alone. We have Sam Wilson and Agent Thirteen with us.”   
“Sam Wilson? I recognise that name.”   
“Steve did a couple of missions with him up in DC and you designed his flight rig.”   
“Ah, Falcon.”   
“That’s the one.”   
Tony looked no less worried, though Natasha knew that was not a slight at the Agents but more about his perpetual concern over Steve.   
“We’re off in ten, come say goodbye.”   
“I would prefer ‘see you later’.”   
“And you will.”

 

They were stood on the landing balcony, quinjet prepped for take-off and everyone was in a solemn mood. Waving their farewells, Steve and Nat boarded the jet and took off to pick up the other two up from the SHIELD helicarrier.   
“So,” Natasha started as she approached Steve at the controls, “Tony?”   
“What about Tony?”   
“Never mind,” she smirked, “not important.”   
“No go on.”   
“Why wouldn’t you let him put a tracker on you?”   
“Because I can take care of myself.”   
“But he’s worried. They all are.”   
“I can look after myself.”   
“If Tony was doing this, wouldn’t you want a GPS on him?”   
“Yes.”   
Natasha gestured towards him, palms held flat and skywards, clearly trying to indicate something Steve didn’t get.   
“What?”   
“Oh nothing. Never would have pegged the good Captain for a hypocrite is all.”   
“Hypocrite, how am I being hypocritical?”   
“You won’t let Tony worry about you, but you worry constantly about him.”   
“I have-“   
“Super-serum, and he has a super suit. You are both capable of looking after yourselves. So if you want to stop being a hypocrite stop worrying about him-“   
“I can’t do that.”   
“Then let him worry about you, moron. He builds all that tech to keep us safe, a little insulting if we don’t use it.”   
“I guess.”   
Luckily for Steve the conversation didn’t have to continue for any longer as they touched down on the helicarrier. The other two passengers boarded and soon they were discussing details of this PR stunt. They touched down and began getting to work.

 

“Are you spying on Steve?”   
“No,” Tony said, slamming the lid of his laptop closed and knocking over a cup of half-drunk, stone cold coffee.   
“I get it Tony, I’m worried too,” Banner said, calmly handing Tony a fresh cup.   
“I just can’t shake this feeling. Like something is going to go wrong.”   
“You’re just over-thinking. What could possibly go wrong?”   
“You want the list? It’s pretty extensive.”   
“Dear god no, I do not want the list.”   
“Well first of all there is accidental fire during a training drill, purposeful fire by someone with a vendetta, a wildfire, an earthquake-“   
“Now you are being ridiculous.”   
“Explosion, quinjet crash-“   
“You designed it, there won’t be a technical fault, and Steve can fly easy enough.”   
“Someone shoots the quinjet from the sky, someone booby traps the quinjet, this is all a set-up, tsunami, typhoon, hurricane, freezing rain-“   
“It’s August.”   
“car crash, motorbike crash, tank crash, aircraft crash, boat crash-“   
“Don’t think they’ll be near any boats.”   
“Stuck in a freezer, drowned in the bath-“   
“Unless you plan on monitoring Steve when he bathes, I don’t think you can protect him from that.”   
“Slips in the shower, concussion, blunt force trauma, sharp force trauma, bleeds out, aneurism, stroke, heart disease-“   
“Steve can’t get ill. Serum, remember?”   
“Natasha can. I worry about her too. Poison, food poisoning, the flu, the plague, small pox, cow pox, chicken pox, measles, bird flu, swine flu, ebola, malaria, mad cow disease, rabies-“   
“Tony, I really think we are all over thinking this.”   
Tony continued listing every possible cause of death as Clint walked in. He listened for a moment, face turning to a frown.   
“This is why I don’t talk to him. He makes everything worse.”   
“No he doesn’t.”   
“You’re right, but he makes me worry more.”   
“Let’s go watch a film.”   
“But it’s movie night.”   
“So we’ll watch one now and then later.”   
“Alright, help me drag Tony.”   
Clint and Bruce grabbed an arm each and pulled him away from his laptop.

 

They had been doing training drills with the troops for the past half hour.   
“On your left.”   
“Oh c’mon, that’s the sixth time you’ve lapped me.”   
Steve ran off at a fast pace, and light footfalls sounded behind him.   
“On your left.”   
“On your right.”   
“Damn.”   
He watched as blonde and red curls ran off giggling together. Sam was leagues ahead of the other troops but still. Running with (some of) the Avengers. Or rather being left behind (some of) the Avengers. A sharp whistle blew and all the troops behind them slowed. Sam watched as Captain America, Black Widow and Agent Thirteen all slowed and met about half a track in front of him. He sprinted to meet them, settling into a steady rhythm.   
“How nice of you to join us Falcon,” Natasha said, deadpanned face but a glimmer of some mischievous evil in her eyes.   
“We can’t all have super serum and spy training,” Sam gasped breathlessly.   
“I think the little bird here needs a break, canteen?” Agent Thirteen offered, sympathetic grin on her face.   
Sam could only nod his thanks, still wheezing. The girls walked steadily over to the canteen, conspiring about something with backwards glances to himself and Captain America. They disappeared through the door. Captain America clapped a hand on his shoulder and it took more energy than he had to stop his knees buckling.   
“Ignore Natasha, she likes to tease. Trust me, she likes to tease.”   
“Oh yeah? How can she tease you?”   
“She has her ways.”   
They walked together, chatting happily about the plans for the rest of the day, Sam buzzing with curiosity over the Avengers.   
“Make sure to send my thanks to Mr Stark. The rig has never run better.”   
A look swept over Captain America’s face, full of adulation. For what reason, Sam could not fathom. They grabbed trays, plucked food from the servers and joined Black Widow and Agent Thirteen at the table they were sat. No one else had sat with them despite the crowded dining hall.   
“Do you bite?”   
“Only in bed,” Black Widow replied shamelessly, Captain America’s cheeks tinging rouge.   
“Are you two…?”   
Agent Thirteen stifled a laugh, hand covering her mouth. Black Widow looked unconcerned but Captain America was quick to deny.   
“What? No, nothing like that.”   
“Ignore the blush, he does it at any sexual remark. Although he does have quite a mouth on him, wouldn’t you agree Agent?”   
“Most definitely Natasha.”   
“You know each other well,” Sam idly stated.   
“Well enough.”   
“How did you all meet?”   
“Through work.”   
“Did you meet through missions Agent Thirteen? Agent Romanoff?”   
“Classified I’m afraid. And call me Kate.”   
Black Widow cast her a glance which was met with a shrug and quirk of eyebrows.   
“Natasha.”   
“And Steve.”   
Sam smiled at them all, falling into easy conversation. ~~Captain America~~ Steve was tapping against the glass screen of an impossibly thin phone. Natasha and Kate shared a look, and Kate cocked her head to the side. Natasha sighed at Steve.   
“Just text him.”   
“Text who?” She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at him and sighed again.   
“He’s worried, you’re worried because he’s worried. Text him. Let him know it’s all fine so far.”   
And that was when the chaos broke out. A fast flash of movement and his head was slammed into the table. Immediately woozy, Sam got to his feet, blocking the punch that was aimed for his jaw. He saw Kate slumped on a table, syringe stuck into her neck. Natasha was ducked low to the ground, crouched and sweeping the legs out from several assailants.   
“I could really use my damn shield about now,” Steve yelled over the noise, using a tray to block a punch then smacking the attacker round the face with it, snapping the flimsy plastic in half.   
“Told you there was something iffy about this assignment,” Natasha shouted back.   
“Really guys! This is not the time,” Sam yelled back, kicking a guy in the back as he tried to get a punch in at Steve.   
Someone managed to get one of Cap’s wrists in cuffs, twisting his arm painfully. Sam tried to break through the circle of five or so that had closed in on him. A punch to the ribs doubled him over and a knee to the jaw knocked him to the ground. The kick to the stomach forced the air from his lungs and he felt cold metal bite into his wrists. Then a syringe in the neck. Then nothing.

 

“Sir, Miss Romanoff’s-“   
“Bring up the feed.”   
The movie cut out and a new video was showing. The camera was flashing around, brief moments of stillness revealing disaster. Steve was bruised, blood running down his face as he tried to shield the slumped bodies left on the table. A raised hand in self-defence was bloodied, black watch covered in the reddish-brown stain of dried blood. The arm blocked the swing, knocking Natasha unsteady. She turned to Steve and jumped across the table, thighs locking around the neck of the idiot trying to handcuff Steve. Momentum carried him and herself down to the floor. Immediately on her feet, a new attacker came at her with a pocket knife. It was held back across her arm but with a twist she managed to get herself free. The knife caught on the watch, ripping through the leather. It fell to the floor, glass face shattering. He could hear Steve’s groans through the hidden microphone, as the camera turned just catching him getting smacked across the face. She stilled suddenly, no more movement in the camera. Her body fell to the floor, then lifted slightly. There was a click of metal and rough voices sounded over the audio.   
“Give up Captain or they die.”   
The familiar sound of guns, and the fingers itching to pull the trigger.   
“SUIT JARVIS NOW.”   
“Deploying sir, the others have been informed. Video feed is also being sent to the suit’s HUD.”   
Tony stepped into the suit and flew straight for the camp. But not fast enough, he knew it. A black bag was shoved over Natasha’s head. Shit. Lost GPS, lost heart monitor, lost visual, audio somewhat compromised by fabric. Sounds of car doors slamming, engine starting, mutters. Shit. Tony landed at the camp, entirely vacated. Nothing left. The canteen was empty if completely in havoc. He found the watch, as well as personal effects. Wallets, keys, phones, all left on a tray on the table. They had been searched, couldn’t even track GPS on anyone’s phone. Professionals then. The roar of an engine outside had Tony bring up the repulsors. He hurried outside, only to be met by Clint, Coulson, and Banner.   
“Where’s Thor?”   
“Still in Asgard, we can’t reach him.”   
“I need to make some calls.”   
Tony started dialling, “Richards hey, we have a situation.”   
“And this is my problem because?”   
“Ignoring it means more work for you, more work means less science.”   
“Alright, how can I help?”   
“I need the Four’s assistance, two agents, one soldier, and Captain America have been kidnapped. We need leads and leads needs lookouts. Get your team out there and send everyone else you know to the tower.”

 

Crap, what had they drugged him with? Thought Steve as he woke to a headache and painfully dry mouth. He opened his eyes and found himself chained to a chair, hands still caught in the handcuffs they used earlier. He tried to break them but there was no give in the metal.   
“I wouldn’t bother, they’re adamantium,” came a voice in front of him.   
Opening his eyes he caught sight of a ginger girl grinning kittenishly at him. She had a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and was blowing a pink bubble with chewing gum. She was dressed entirely in leather, red thigh high leather boots, black leather pants, and a red leather corset with sheaths for six blades. Her fingers glanced over them absently. Steve looked around, noting Natasha’s absence from the room.   
“Where’s-“   
“The red head? I’m letting a few friends have some fun. After all my organisation had a lot of difficulty from the Black Widow. It’s only fair.”   
“Your organisation?”   
“Well technically it is currently run by Madame. But I’m her second.”   
“What’s your name?”   
“Synthia. But I prefer Sin.”   
“So Sin, what do you want to gain by doing all this?”   
“Absolutely nothing. Except maybe your agony.”   
She smiled at him flirtatiously and moved slowly towards him, settling herself easily on his lap. Steve pulled away as far as the chair would let him. She leaned forward, whispering softly into his ear.   
“Although, I would easily settle for their agony,” she cast her eyes sideways, eyeing up the still unconscious Agent Thirteen and Falcon, “I’ll be right back, going to check on the Spider.”   
Sin slid off his lap and walked out the door. She waved behind her, wiggling her fingers. Sam groaned, coming round.   
“Where the hell are we?”   
“Don’t know. But we have company and she’s not pleasant.”   
“How not pleasant?”   
“Very.”   
Sam just sighed.   
“Why do I hang out with you? After DC, where we took down… what was it?”   
“Do you mean the robotic dragon or the cement spewing snake?”   
“Both I guess. Good times.”   
“The very best.”   
“Will you guys shut up and try and think of a way out?”   
Sharon had woken up and was glaring daggers at the boys.   
“Adamantium cuffs, can’t break them. They have Natasha, Sharon. Sin, a ginger girl, looks around twenty, she seems to be in control, but isn’t the head of all of this. She referred to someone of a higher status as Madame.”   
“Sharon. You said your name was Kate.”   
Sharon just turned to look at Sam, her head to the side and her blonde curls dangling down. Her expression was of annoyed disbelief.   
“Really? That’s all you got from that. You decide to focus on my name. Why is he here Rogers?”   
“I ask myself the same question,” Sam said with a wry grin.   
“He’s good in combat and he’s an excellent soldier,” Steve said, defending Sam.   
“I wonder how Natasha’s doing.”

 

Natasha was suspended from the ceiling by her wrists, men surrounding her. A blindfold was over her eyes, blocking everything but the brightest of lights. She held her body loose, refusing to tense any muscles, even as the first swing came in. And then the next and the next. Didn’t stop it hurting, not that a Black Widow would _ever_ show pain.   
“Bitch KGB assassin and SHIELD whore. Time for a lesson in pain.”   
It was difficult to resist the urge to roll her eyes, even if they wouldn’t see. The KGB had been far crueller than these hacks. She just masked her face into one of fear.   
“Humanity needs order.”   
“And you are the ones to provide that order then?”   
“We seek to bring about a new world and a new order.”   
“How?”   
“Order only comes through pain.”   
These guys could not be any more clichéd villain if they tried. She listened to the way they talked, picking up a variety of accents from the seven men assigned to her. One was distinctly English, another with the hard syllables of German, something East Coast but she couldn’t place where. The others were Eastern European, maybe Hungarian. She couldn’t be entirely certain. Except for one. His voice was harsher, stronger, and more authoritative. Most likely head of this group. She would recognise the accent of her mother tongue anywhere. Hmm interesting. All spoke with their accents almost proudly. And the manner in which they spoke, tone and timbre, suggested a sense of (over-inflated) self-importance. Probably work in Government, high up but not top of their respective departments, judging by the fact they kept deferring to each other on what to do with her next. Used to following orders. Which means take out the leader of this operation and they all fall. A door opened behind her and to the left.   
“How is she?”   
New voice, distinctly female, traces of many accents.   
“Tenderised, just as you asked.”   
Okay, female was the leader.   
“I asked for bloody and bruised,” cold annoyance curling in her tone.   
There was a rustle of movement followed by a whistle and thud of an object being thrown.   
“Go from my sight, or next time I won’t miss.”   
Hurried footsteps and a door shutting. A softer, more relaxed shuffle and the sound of metal against drywall. A faint clucking sound in disappointment.   
“Damn idiots. Blunted my blade for that. Still it should be sharp enough for what I want to do to you. Want a job done right, gotta do it yourself. Of course, you know all about that Natalia.”   
“And here you have me at a disadvantage.”   
“I have you at many disadvantages Black Widow.”   
There was a piercing feeling in her leg, cold metal twisting into her thigh. She quelled the moan of pain before it could rise from her throat. A body leaned in close, small but well-defined, compact muscle tensing as the knife was dug deeper.   
“My name is Synthia but please, just call me Sin.”   
Hands slid up Natasha’s side, the gentle caress juxtaposing the knife still sticking out her leg. One hand slipped off her side and the sound of metal being drawn from a sheath of soft material drew her attention. Armed with multiple weapons. Possibly the same weapon. There was a cold teasing feel as the blade’s edge sliced through her SHIELD uniform. Around her waist, the blade was dug in harder, cuts carving the flesh. Slowly the hands were dragged up her sides again, slipping across her shoulders and up her neck, finally settling behind her head. She could feel the nimble fingers work in her hair, pulling the blindfold off her eyes. Natasha blinked in the bright light, seeing a grinning face beam at her. She was within reach, easily. A kick would send her sprawling and then Natasha might be able to work herself free of her bonds. As if reading her mind, Sin took a step forward, green eyes glinting like emeralds.   
“I wouldn’t, but then I value my life. You can’t see but my friend here will put a bullet in your head, spine, lungs, and heart, before you can even finish your kick. I told you. Disadvantage. But I’m bored here, let’s see how dearest Cap is doing. He’s more attractive in person, don’t you think? Oh don’t worry. I’ll be back, I’m not done with you yet.”  
She wiped one of her blades across Natasha’s cheek, leaving blood streaked across her face. She glanced down at the one buried in her thigh.   
“I think I’ll leave you that one, a little souvenir of our time together. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.”   
She walked off, red boots slapping against the tiles. The door shut with a heavy click, but pacing sounded behind her. A constant motion of back and forth. Not alone then.

 

Tony was standing at a podium, high on a stage in front of a good dozen different heroes. It was exhausting trying to control them all, most with such loud personalities. There was a blur of red and blue then a tapping at the window. Tony opened it, letting in a masked Spiderman.   
“Okay everyone. Two agents, one soldier, and Captain America have been taken by an unknown force. We need your help finding and taking down the assailants. The group were taken from Camp Kilmer in New Jersey. We have sufficient reason to believe they are still within the Tristate Area due to time restrictions.”   
There were general murmurings from the small crowd. The tiny room was full of anxious heroes, all desperately wishing to know how a superhero and a deadly assassin (also a superhero in all their eyes) could get kidnapped.   
“How did this happen?” Carol Danvers yelled over the noise.   
The hall silenced, everyone desperate to know the answer.   
“They were ambushed during a PR visit to the aforementioned camp, by the people pretending to be soldiers.”   
Looks were exchanged between the crowd.   
“We’ll help in any way we can,” squeaked Janet Van Dyne, tiny body hovering above them, silvery wings fluttering.   
A black haired girl nodded her agreement, fingers trailing along a bow string. There were a pair situated far at the back, looking hesitant. Finally, with eyes flashing red, the dark haired girl nodded, her silver-haired companioned following up with verbal acknowledgement.   
“We help, no?”   
“The more help the better, name and powers?”   
“Quicksilver, and super-speed,” answered the silver haired teen, thick Romani accent lazily rolling across his words.   
“Scarlet Witch, and telekinesis mostly,” added the brunette.   
A man in a red and black suit, not unlike Spiderman’s, raised his hand.   
“What’s the pay?”   
At the looks of outraged superhero kin he shrugged.   
“What? Man’s got to eat.”   
Tony eyed him up and down, taking in deadened yellow eyes behind the mask.   
“The pay, should you desire it, will be handsome. Certainly enough to give even the most careless spender several months without financial woes. Does that suit you?”   
The man in the red and black latex suit nodded. Flipping out his phone (Hello Kitty case? That was not expected) the man called through to someone. But Tony was not in the mood to wait.   
“Name and power?”   
“Deadpool. Or Wade if you prefer-“   
“I don’t.”   
“-and accelerated healing factor,” turning away from Tony, Deadpool continued speaking, “do you believe this guy?”   
“Who are you speaking to?”   
“Them.”   
Clint leaned next to Tony, muttering into his ear. “He is talking to no one. We sure we want this guy’s help? Clearly crazy.”   
“Yes, if he can help then yes.”   
“Alright, on your head be it.”   
“And it will. Thank you all, and keep me posted on any news.”   
Spiderman piped up from where he was sat on the edge of the stage. Pulling up the mask a little, just showing his mouth he called out to Tony.   
“Is this the kind of thing you mean?”   
Tony glanced down at the phone that was held under his nose. A series of text messages between Spiderman and a contact named ‘Bendy Girl’.

_Heya_

_Hi, sumthins up down ur way_

_I know, the roads are full of army trucks._

_Army? Which camp?_

_Like I can tell._

_Friend has been taken where hav they headed?_

_Waterfront I think._

_Thanks Bendy Girl_

_NP Spidey. I’ll go check it out. Let you know._   
Tony smiled at Spiderman gratefully.   
“Who is this? And where can we find her?”   
“Secret Identity like me, but goes by Ms Marvel. You can find her in Jersey City.”   
Tony clapped his hands, drawing the attention of the room.   
“Right guys, we have a lead. Everyone down in Jersey City. Be as inconspicuous as possible. We are checking out the waterfront. Look for the typical, abandoned buildings used as evil lairs shtick.”

 

“Can you please get off my lap?” Steve requested through gritted teeth.   
A blade was stroked against his cheek, cold metal causing him to flinch.   
“Oh ever the gentleman. Alright.”   
Sin stood easily and walked over to Agent Thirteen, slapping her hard across the face. She then began dragging the knife’s edge up Sharon’s arm, the Agent wincing in pain. When she was done, she walked over to Sam.   
“Chewing gum?” She offered to the chained man.   
“Are you for real? Like the outfit and the psycho act?”   
That earnt him a kick to the stomach.   
“Thought you would rather my suffering than theirs,” Steve shouted at her.   
“Their suffering is yours.”   
Steve shrugged, aiming for nonchalance.   
“Not really. Barely know them. Just colleagues. Don’t really care.”   
Apparently the act worked because she removed the boot pressing heavily on Sam’s groin. Only to smile at Captain America and do the same to him.   
“So you are saying you’d rather take the beating than strangers?” she tutted.   
A flash of movement and a flick of the blade and Steve was curling in on himself, feeling warmth run down his abdomen. The pain was hot and sharp against the cold unyielding metal rammed into his stomach. Steve groaned in moan and Sin left his side. Once more walking over to Sam and Sharon.   
“He’s a bad soldier, he lied to me. Liars get punished. He does care about you, who would take all that pain otherwise. And believe me, he is in a lot of pain, Little Spies.”   
“I’m more of a soldier than a spy,” Sam remarked humourlessly.   
“I’ve turned soldiers into spies before. In fact they make some of the best spies. The asset is in there,” she gestured out the room, “dealing with the Little Spider. Until he’s done with her, enjoy these guys. Second rate at best but I make do. I’ve got better things to do than deal with a second rate Superhero Team. I’m just going to stay and watch for a little while though. Your pain is rather good entertainment, better than the crap on TV these days.”   
She sat in an office chair on the other side of the room, twirling on it, as six beefy thugs strolled in.   
“Work ‘em over real good. I want them broken in for what I have in store.”   
“Yes ma’am.”   
The room was soon filled with the groans and shrieks of pain. Steve was throwing out insults to all of those that would listen, causing the goons focused on Sam and Sharon to break away from them several times, just to lay a few into Steve. He could feel bruises swelling across his left eye and jaw, a slap to his right cheek sparking fresh pain through the bruises. Blows hit his body everywhere. He could feel the crack of his ribs, the pop of his now dislocated shoulder as he writhed in pain, the dull thunk of something blunt and heavy striking his leg. And Sin just watched through lust filled eyes, getting a thrill out of seeing Captain America bloody.

 

“Okay, we have the building, that many heat signatures should not be inside an abandoned building. Barton, take Bishop up top, give us eyes from above. Strike down anyone hostile.”   
“Who died and made you boss?” Clint asked before he could stop himself.   
Kate elbowed him in the chest, giving him a look.   
“Hopefully no one, and I’d like to keep it that way. Now buck up Avenger. Soon-to-be Hawkeye’s replacement, keep him out of trouble.”   
“Aye-aye Mr Stark.”   
Kate saluted him and they immediately began snaking up the fire escape of a nearby building, and although they were too far away to be heard, body language clearly a certain kind of jovial argument.   
“Janet, can you get up on the roof and work down?”   
“Yep, see you later.”   
Janet shrunk down into her tiny wasp form and buzzed off towards the roof.   
“Spiderman, with her.”   
Spiderman began crawling up the wall, sticking to the shadows and carefully avoiding the windows.   
“Scarlet Witch, which is too long so you are now just Scarlet and Quicksilver, now just silver, you join us in, but your main task is to find the captives, stay out the fight as much as possible.”   
The twins nodded in sync and waited for Tony and Carol.   
“Carol, with me. We’re the distraction for them, keep the fight away from the captives. We’ve had to leave Bruce behind, Hulking out could risk the hostages. Thor is still in Asgard, Xavier is staying out of it, not a mutant problem. Richards has called the Four off.”   
“Fucking Richards,” Carol groaned.   
“Yeah, could have used Susan about now.”   
“What happened to Deadpool?”   
“Not a clue, he just disappeared. C’mon, let’s go.”   
Tony sneaked into the building, Captain Marvel at his heels.

 

He wouldn’t speak, no matter how much Natasha talked. She tried everything in her repertoire. He just steadfastly ignored her. She couldn’t even see him. She tried spinning on the rope, twisting around to get a visual on her guard. Finally she managed to face him. Greasy brown hair hung low on his face, which was mostly covered by a black mask and dark goggles.   
“Не двигаться сука!”   
Ah, Russian then.   
“Я просто хочу, чтобы увидеть вашу красивое лицо.”   
He growled at her, a low rumble in his throat. He stepped closer, gun weighing heavily in his hand. Now he was closer she could see it. A gleaming metal hand, hidden by long sleeves and leather gloves. It couldn’t be. He was nothing more than a ghost story.   
“Черная вдова является лжецом.”   
“Это название нашей игры.”   
He stepped closer still, and though his body language was calm, she could feel annoyance bubbling under his skin. He hated being compared to her. He was in the perfect place. People always underestimate a spider hanging by a single thread. She swung towards him, legs latching around his neck. He tried to raise the gun but the angle was wrong. She twisted her legs, causing his arm to jerk upwards and fire, bullet cutting through the rope that held her up. She landed heavily on her bad leg. The stumble cost her time, her guard recovered enough to hit her hard with a swing of his metal hand. No, metal arm, she realised as his elbow connected with her sternum. Okay, time to get desperate. She pulled the knife from her thigh, slicing the rope that was still binding her hands. The man was raising the gun, aiming straight at her head. Duck, roll, kick his legs from under him. He fell to the ground, a metallic clang as his arm struck the floor. She threw all her weight behind one final movement, jamming the thin blade between the scales in his wrist. A sudden spark and he began jerking fitfully. He tried to stand but each attempt led to another shock. Soon Natasha could hear yells down the corridor. She glanced to the door then back to the man, only to find an empty room. The window was thrown open, frigid breeze blowing in. The door swung open revealing a man in red and gold armour, a tall blonde at his back.   
“Aren’t you a little short to be a Storm Trooper?” Natasha smirked at the armour.   
The faceplate lifted to reveal a relieved Tony.   
“Oh bite me,” he laughed.   
“Can’t do better than ‘bite me’? I expected better.”   
“So sue me, my fam-,” he swallowed hard, unable to voice the word, “gets captured and I have no way of knowing where they are. And you expect me to be at the top of my game. Screw you Natasha,” he laughs then the sound dies in his throat, “shit, where’s Steve? Where are the others?”   
Natasha shrugged helplessly, limping behind Captain Marvel and Tony as they stalk down the corridor.   
“Mr Stark, she needs to get her leg looked at,” Carol commented, examining Natasha’s leg in concern.   
“SHIELD med is on the way. Get her downstairs.”   
Natasha scowled at the both of them.   
“I’m not leaving until we find Steve.”

 

The abuse had been brutal. Not even the back alley fights where Bucky couldn’t save him had been this bad. Body full of bruises, split lip, cracked if not broken ribs, fractured leg, and a concussion seemed likely. Though thank Thor for his serum, he’d been able to take more of the beatings, distracting the others to focus on him. He at least managed to spare Sam and Sharon a little. There were thunderous footsteps sounding down the corridors. Sin looked annoyed and poked her head out.   
“What the fuck is going on?”   
“Ma’am it’s the Avengers.”   
“Well hold them off.”   
“But it’s the Avengers.”   
“Did I stutter? Go get ‘em.”   
She turned to the room, glaring at the henchmen.   
“Well? What are you waiting for? Go.”   
The six men turned tail and left the room, clearly more scared of Sin than of the Avengers. Sin walked languidly to the window, perching on the sill and blowing another bubble with her gum.   
“Hate to stab and run,” she launched a knife, sinking straight into Steve’s flank, “but I’ve got to go. Don’t think you’ve beaten me, Cap. Don’t think your little friends have beaten me. Cut off one head, two more will grow in its place. You’ve just made things so much worse. Auf Wiedersehen.”   
She slipped out the window. The door burst open and Steve could make a shock of grey-silver hair as something whirled through the room at inhuman speed.   
“You are the Captain America, yes?” the brunette girl that followed him asked.   
“Yeah, who are you?”   
“Scarlet Witch, this is my brother Quicksilver, though Mr Stark calls us Scarlet and Silver.”   
“Mr Stark? You’ve seen Tony?”   
They shared a puzzled look.   
“Yes. He organised your rescue.”   
“How did he even know I was missing?”   
Scarlet’s shoulders rose and fell in an eloquent shrug. Silver’s was less graceful.   
“Are you enhanced?”   
“Yes.”   
“What powers do you possess?”   
“My brother possesses super-speed, I have telekinesis and I can read people.”   
“Read people?”   
“Their memories, hopes, wishes, desires. Their fears.”   
“Like mind-reading?” Sam asked curiously.   
“Yes, in a way. I can also control the mind.”   
Now Steve knew this was the wrong thing to do, especially with the Scarlet Witch’s eyes bearing into him. But when you know you shouldn’t think of something, it immediately becomes all you can think about. Images, memories, dreams of Tony all flashed across his mind and Steve closed his eyes and tried to will the thoughts away. He opened an eye, hoping the girl hadn’t seen. She held a slight smile on her face, long enough to make sure he’d seen. During all of this Quicksilver had crouched down behind Agent Thirteen. He was shaking the shackles in frustration.   
“Sister, can you get these open?”   
“I can try.”   
She bent down next to him, wisps of red seeping from her fingers. The shackles clicked off, Agent Thirteen slumping forward from exhaustion. Quicksilver caught her and set her back on the chair. The Scarlet Witch was working on Sam’s restraints when a man appeared at the door, holding a micro machine gun to them all. Barely before he managed to utter a threat, a blade cut through his back, slicing open and spilling his guts on the floor. The body slumped to the floor, revealing a red and black latex covered man. He wiped off the katana on the shirt of the man he just disembowelled.   
“Hey, it’s like reverse Sudoku.”   
Everyone cast confused looks around the room. Sharon finally twigged onto his meaning.   
“Spiderman means seppuku. Ritual art in samurai of honourable suicide.”   
“That’s me, your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman.”   
And they believed him. Until red, blue, and webbed came swinging in through the window.   
“Okay, that’s Spiderman,” Sharon frowned.   
“Then who’s he?” Steve asked.   
Spiderman sighed.   
“I told you to stop pretending to be me, Wade.”   
“They assumed, I just didn’t correct them.”   
“Correct them now then.”   
“Hi, I’m Wade Wilson, AKA Deadpool. Nice to meet’cha.”   
He offered a hand to Steve, who just jangled his shackles behind his back. There was the sound of doors opening and slamming down the corridor, until finally red and gold barrelled into the room with a frenetic energy, stumbling over the corpse bleeding slowly across the floor. A blonde woman trailed in after him, carrying a limping Natasha. Blood was dripping sluggishly from her thigh, a steady drip down her leg. Tony pulled off the helmet and cast it aside with reckless abandon, relief visible on his face. The Scarlet Witch, after removing Sam’s shackles, was looking at Tony curiously. Tony was sat up on his knees in front of Steve, fingers hovering over the blades in his flank and abdomen. He turned to face the blonde woman who had entered with Natasha.   
“What do I do?”   
“You are best to leave it until he gets to medical. It is likely that the blade is stopping him bleeding out.”   
“Right, right,”   
Tony brought a hand up to his ear, talking into a comms unit Steve could just see through the curls,   
“Barton, Bishop. We have them, call for extraction. Janet, what’s your position?”   
“Literally sat on your shoulder here Tony.”   
She returned to full size, toppling Tony over.   
“Barton, Bishop, what’s the word outside?”   
“All clear, no stragglers. Didn’t see anyone escape. Five minutes until medical team arrives, fifteen until extraction,” Kate said confidently.   
“Coulson says good job,” added Clint.   
Natasha limped over to Tony.   
“Someone did get away. Man, brunette, late twenties, had a metal arm.”   
“Did you get that Barton?”   
“Didn’t see anyone, sorry Stark.”   
“What about Sin?”   
“Who?”   
“Ginger girl, mid-twenties.”   
“Wears a lot of leather,” added Sam.   
“Sorry, still a negative.”   
“Doesn’t matter for now, we got them back alive. Medical is more important, then we’ll chase the bastards.”   
Tony looked positively murderous. The Scarlet Witch freed Steve’s hands, which he immediately used to stop Tony charging off on a one-man vengeance mission. At the touch, Tony’s face softened a little. Only a little, his eyes still holding that sharp look of anger. The medical crew arrived, carting the injured away. Everyone else followed in the extraction jet Coulson sent.

 

“So are they together?” Sam asked interestedly.   
Natasha laughed so hard it shook her bed. Natasha and Sharon had been placed in the same room, but Sam, lucky for him, was the least injured and was free to roam as he pleased. He was sat in one of the cheap plastic visitor chairs that the hospital provided.   
“No, no. They are both too dumb to see it.”   
“Should we tell them?”   
“And ruin my fun? I don’t think so.”   
The Scarlet Witch smiled serenely from where she was perched on the end of Sharon’s bed, “they really have no idea. It is a little sad.”   
“A little. If you want to get in on the wager speak to Bruce.”   
“I think I will,” grinned Sam.   
“I already have,” Spiderman said, poking his head through the door, “Dr Banner is in the canteen, if you go now you can catch him.”   
Sam jumped to his feet, leaving the girls to chat.   
“Oh Sharon, don’t forget our deal,” Natasha smirked.   
“Don’t worry about it, I haven’t,” Sharon replied, returning the grin.

 

Tony entered the room, tapping against the Iron Man helmet with metal clad fingers. Steve closed his eyes against the inevitable ‘told-you-so’ that was sure to come.   
“I’m glad you’re okay.”   
Huh. That was not what Steve was expecting. No moans of ‘you should have listened to me’. Tony was just looking at him, mouth quirked into a half-smile.   
“Aren’t you going to say it?”   
“Say what Cap?”   
“That you ‘told me so’. That you were right.”   
“Well I wish I wasn’t. And I really don’t think the time to rub it in is when you are in hospital.”   
For some reason that startled a laugh out of Steve, which stunned Tony.   
“What? Is the idea that I _don’t_ want to mock you so funny?”   
“Yeah.”   
“And after all I do for this team, you have so low of an opinion,” Tony teased, “get some rest.”   
“Isn’t that usually my line?”   
“Haha, _hilarious_. The Captain’s sense of humour remains unharmed.”   
Sam had watched this whole interlude in silence, massive grin across his face. Clint and Banner burst through the door dragging office chairs, followed by Thor, having returned from Asgard after hearing of the plight of his Midgard-kin, carrying a bundle of blankets and pillows. Natasha limped in, her thigh bandaged and arm in a sling. The Scarlet Witch glided in after her, Quicksilver on her heels.   
“What’s going on?”   
“You missed movie night Cap, so we brought it to you.”   
Tony was fiddling on his phone and soon the TV in the corner flicked on, displaying the Stark Movie Database, provided courtesy of Jarvis.   
“It’s your turn to pick Cap.”   
Everyone took seats. Clint had cleared the end table and perched on it, Steve had moved over on the bed so Natasha could lie between him and Clint, Thor spread out on the floor, Banner and Sam sitting up in bed, Banner running subtle checks on Sam. Tony was sat on the floor next to Steve, still wrapped in the suit, foot jittering against the linoleum floor. The Scarlet Witch sat next to Tony, her feet curled under her, gypsy skirt hiding her legs, Quicksilver sitting on a flimsy visitor chair. Spiderman had crawled in at some point and was watching upside down from the ceiling.   
“How about this?”   
“Only if you go for the old ones.”   
“I was watching these back in the forties.”   
Soon they were all giggling at the antics of Tom and Jerry. From his vantage on the bed, Steve could see the entire team, a sight which he found deeply soothing. Tony’s dark curls were pressed into the mattress, right by Steve’s arm, body held stiff by the armour he was still enclosed in. They were all arguing about whether they were Team Tom or Team Jerry.   
“Jerry is just trying to survive, and not get eaten by a cat,” Bruce argued reasonably.   
“Aye but when he has found his standing he is most cruel in displaying his advantage,” returned Thor.   
“Agreed, you really shouldn’t flaunt your victory so much,” Natasha added.   
“Wouldn’t you if you spent your entire life trying not to get eaten then you finally one-up the thing trying to eat you?” Clint said.  
Tony hadn’t voiced any comments but his eyes were bright with childish amusement as he watched the shorts.   
“Never seen these before?” asked Cap, nudging Tony’s head to get his attention.   
“No, never.”   
After three episodes he stood suddenly.   
“Right, I’ve got superheroes to pay and mercenaries to thank. Wait. Strike that, reverse it. Back in a few.”   
He left the room, followed by the Witch, Quicksilver, and Spiderman.

 

In the elevator, Tony had turned around to find himself pleasantly surprised that he had company.   
“So? Captain America?” Spiderman started, before he flinched and looked at the Scarlet Witch in horror.   
“The one and only. The doctors all say that they will all make a full recovery.”   
The girl suddenly spoke, offering her petite hand to Tony.   
“Wanda. Wanda Maximoff.”   
Quicksilver followed suit, though when Tony took his hand, he had the distinct impression that the man was trying to crush his fingers.   
“Pietro Maximoff, her twin brother.”   
Spiderman took off his glove, offering his hand.   
“Huge fan of yours Mr Stark, I hope you don’t mind not knowing my name. People I want to protect.”   
“I get it,” Tony smiled, “and you kids are welcome to come to movie night whenever. Next time we should have actual movies. Every Thursday at the Tower.”   
“You bet, old man,” Pietro smirked.   
The elevator dinged open at the Lobby, a gang of superheroes now waiting in the foyer. Tony stepped out and they all silenced. They all looked expectant.   
“The prognosis is extremely positive, they should all make a full recovery.”   
A few small woops, mostly from Deadpool.   
“Thank you all for your help. It was an honour, truly, to work with you. The Avengers owe you a great deal. If we can ever be of assistance, please do not hesitate to call on us.”   
Tony wandered through the group, handing out slim white envelopes. Kate opened hers immediately.   
“Mr Stark, this is waaaay too much.”   
“I’ll be honest that isn’t even half a percent of what I’m worth.”   
Carol ripped hers up without ever opening the envelope. Wanda and Pietro followed suit. Janet looked tentative.   
“Is it… is it okay if I keep this? Abusive ex-husband to avoid.”   
Tony’s face turned stormy.   
“What’s his name?”  
Janet smiled a little sadly.   
“Judging by the look on your face you’d kill him or at least financially ruin him if I told you. He’s out of my life, I’m fine. Just better to have the security.”   
“Yes, then. Keep it.”   
Tony clasped her hands, forcing them closed over the cheque. He then pulled her into a hug.   
“Come to the tower any time you want. There will always be a room for you if you need it.”   
“Can I give her mine?” Kate offered.   
Janet blushed red in embarrassment.   
“I really don’t-“   
“I come from like a mega rich family, I don’t need it. My dad is only like four places lower than Stark on those richest men lists.”   
“If Janet wants it then yes, if not then what’s your favourite charity? Ditto you three,” he pointed at Wanda, Pietro, and Carol.   
They answered with easy smiles, looking pleased with the outcome. Spiderman pocketed his with an apologetic look.   
“Sorry, but I have people to take care of. And this goes a long way to helping.”   
“Just make sure some of it goes to college, or apply to a Stark Scholarship. No idea who you are so I can’t be biased. Unless you put up those web-shooters, those are pretty unique.”   
Deadpool looked torn.   
“What if, instead of money, I asked to be an Avenger?”   
“You sliced open people and you want to be an Avenger?”   
“Yeah.”   
“I’d tell you to wait by the mail with bated breath for your reserve Avenger ID card,” Tony said sarcastically.   
Deadpool wooped and pocketed the cheque anyway.

 

It was finally time for everyone to leave the hospital, a week was ample in Tony’s opinion. They were waiting for Happy to pick up the team in Tony’s limo (the only vehicle big enough for Thor). Saying their farewells was surprisingly difficult.   
“Well goodbye Sam, stop by the Tower some time. I’m sure Steve would like that.”   
“I’m sure he would.”   
Tony’s ears could just pick up the conversation between Agent Thirteen and Steve.   
“Thank you for distracting them, that was really brave of you.”   
Steve blushed, rubbing the back of his head with one hand, disordering the strands of gold.   
“It was honestly nothing.”   
Sharon leant up and kissed Steve softly on the cheek, though it was honestly closer to his mouth, right on the corner of his lips, Steve blushing a luminous scarlet. Tony knew he should be paying attention to what Sam was saying, but he couldn’t help staring straight over his shoulder at the pair of blondes, still standing close. Tony was shaking Sam’s hand but when the movement stilled, Sam followed his gaze, smile turning sympathetic. He also caught the smirk on Natasha’s face and the brief eye contact between Sharon and Natasha. He broke the handshake, telling Stark it was a pleasure to see him again, even though he was certain the man wasn’t listening at this stage. Instead he strutted over to Steve, and pulled him into a hug, quick and easy. They stepped apart.   
“Thanks man, for distracting them to protect me and Sharon. I’ve got to head back to DC soon and Sharon’s offered to fly me so we’ll speak soon.”   
The fact she was flying Sam back to DC seemed to be news to Sharon as Sam steered her into a taxi. He climbed in after her and just told the driver to drive them to the nearest drive-through.   
“I know literally two things about Natasha. The first is that the name she chooses to use is Natasha. The second is Cap told me she likes to tease. And I think she got you in on the joke.”   
“Oh Wilson, such a killjoy. Of course she did. Nothing spices things up like a little competition,” she said with a devil’s grin.   
“You are almost as evil as Natasha.”   
“You learnt she was evil that quickly, I’m impressed. SHIELD could use more agents like you.”   
“Soldier, not a spy.”

 

Okay, even Natasha could tell that might have been a bit too far. She did so love teasing her favourite pair of broken human beings. But the look that flashed briefly on Tony’s face told her it was one step too far. He looked… for lack of a more accurate word, distraught. It was gone barely a nanosecond later, making her question whether she’s seen it at all. Though judging by the ‘Stark Mask’ that fell into place after that, she had. Face an easy smile, body language screamed carefree. But the problem with masks is that you can always see the eyes. They looked blank, until a vague sense of hopelessness spread across them. Shit, Natasha thought, he’s giving up. That just wouldn’t do.   
“Hey Steve, you and Tony head home, Clint and I want to thank the others. We’ll follow with Banner once he’s finished the medical paperwork for you.”   
Natasha hooked her arm through Clint’s, and dragged him back into the building.   
“So how was Kate?”   
“Like the sister I never wanted, why is she my replacement? She’s rude and stubborn and outspoken, albeit good with a bow and-“   
“You are really just answering your own question.”

 

Steve hailed a cab, despite Tony’s protests that they could just use the limo. Steve had waived him off and told him to leave it for Thor and the others. Which Tony did, to Steve’s surprise. No arguments. Maybe Tony was getting ill again. Steve reached up to check his forehead, but drew back at the aborted flinch. The hand was batted down to his side, by one of Tony’s.   
“I’m fine,” he said rigidly then in an altogether forcefully calm tone he repeated himself.   
They climbed into the Taxi, Tony closing the door and staring out the window, entire body angled away from Steve. They were driven in silence for five minutes before Steve became uncomfortable.   
“So Carol Danvers? You two seem close,” and because Steve was a masochist he added, “are you seeing her?”   
Tony didn’t even turn away from the window, sighing in a manner Steve couldn’t recognise, perhaps something akin to melancholy sadness.   
“We aren’t especially close. She’s a friend of Rhodey’s, they met during her military days. We aren’t together, not my type.”   
Steve could see Tony’s sad smile reflected in the cab window.   
“Tall, blonde, and stunning isn’t your type? Not to mention powerful and Kick-Ass to boot? Who are you and what have you done with Tony?” Steve tried joking, only to see Tony’s eyes shut against the world, deep creases forming around his eyes.   
“Maybe she is then,” Steve’s heart sunk a little and he really didn’t want to think about why, “I don’t know. I wasn’t really looking.”   
“You? You weren’t looking? What on earth could have distracted you?”   
Tony said nothing, still staring out the window.   
“What about you and Agent Thirteen?”   
“What about us?”   
“Been fondue-ing?”   
Steve spluttered, blushing bright red.   
“Howard told you about that?”   
“Sure, _Howard_ ,” Tony said rolling his eyes and remembering laughing his head off as Aunt Peggy had recounted that tale when he was thirteen.   
“No, we’ve never fondued.”   
“You could ask her out?”   
“I don’t really want to. She’s not my type.”   
Tony’s head whipped, finally breaking his gaze from the window.   
“Tall, blonde, and stunning, not to mention kick-ass to boot, not your type then either?”   
“I prefer short, brunet, with a wicked grin and a wickeder sense of humour.”   
Tony stared at him wide eyed, mouthing at air like a fish out of water. Steve stilled next to him, cursing his runaway mouth. Tony was going to reject him, right then and there in this cab. He was going to-   
“OH MY GOD, YOU LIKE DARCY!”   
“What?” Steve said blankly.   
“DARCY AND STEVE SITTING IN A TREE, K-I-S-S-I-N-G, FIRST COMES EAGLES, THEN COMES THE FREEDOM, NEXT IS A LIFE FULL OF PATRIOTISM!” Tony was cackling at the top of his lungs.   
“Oh no, no no no, no. No. No Tony.”   
"I think thou doth protest too much."  
Tony’s laughter eventually subsided after much insistent that Steve did not like Darcy.   
“Okay then. Who? You seem to have a very clear idea.”   
“Someone special.”   
“Aw Cap, you old romantic,” Tony said, playfully punching Steve in the arm.

 

Almost home, Tony had resumed staring out the window, pondering the last conversation. It’s not that he didn’t like Agent 13, it’s just that… Okay, he didn’t like her. But that may be due to her… actually she did nothing. Okay, how could he explain his unreasonable dislike? He just felt at least Darcy was a better match. At least he knew her. But it wasn’t her either. Tony was most definitely interested in this mystery woman. As Steve’s friend. That’s why he was interested. Just a friend wondering about who his friend was fondue-ing. When the taxi pulled up at the Tower, Steve winced as he tried to move and exit the car. Tony was up and round his side in a heartbeat, opening the door and offering a hand.   
“Easy, red, white and bruised. Still recovering Cap.”   
Tony pulled Steve to his feet gently, tossing far too much money at the cabbie, without caring much.   
“Bed,” Tony ordered as they approached the elevator leading to their personal floors.   
“Is this the part you make a crude joke?”   
“Usually, but I don’t think you are up for it right now. I mean, what if you took me up on my offer? Sex with me can be rather _punishing_ ,” his face was a sight of pure temptation, Steve’s eyes drinking in the view like a parched man, “and I just don’t think you could handle it.”   
Tony’s face switched to a look of pure innocence, impish smile curling in the corners of his mouth.   
“Are you challenging me, Stark?”   
“Me, Captain?” Tony asked with a hand to his chest, “I wouldn’t dare,” impish smirk turning devilish once more.

 

A few days later and it was still bugging Steve. So he asked Tony.  
"Not that I'm complaining but how did you know we got attacked? and how did you get all those superheroes to help?"  
"Well Carol was through Rhodey, Janet and I are just in the same social circles. Wanda and Pietro just turned up. I think they came with Janet. The others were Reed's doing, Spidey had been climbing all over the Baxter building."  
"You got Reed to help."  
"Yup. And he was a dick about it. I owe him now and that is something I never wanted to happen. But yeah on how I know you got attacked. Well you know how you completely refused a GPS."  
"Yeah," Steve replied slowly, feeling like he knew where Tony was going with this.  
"Natasha might have had a new watch during this PR stunt. And that watch might have had GPS and a heart monitor that alerted me if her heart beat got too high or low. And she might have also had a hairband camera that turned on if an alert was sent out."  
"Oh Tony."  
"I know what you are going to say, it was over the top, unnecessary."  
"Wasn't going to say anything like that. It was very necessary. It saved us. I'm sorry Tony."  
"Oh and before you ask, the watch broke during the fight, I need to work on that, can't believe I missed such an obvious design flaw. Otherwise I would have found you a lot sooner. I'm sorry Cap. Wait what? Don't apologise, no need to."  
"How did you find us?"  
"Spiderman knew someone who spotted something weird. I met her the other day. Good kid, she's a bit of an Avengers fangirl, and loves Captain Marvel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sin: http://cdn.themis-media.com/media/global/images/library/deriv/708/708144.jpg and http://marvel.wikia.com/Sinthea_Shmidt_(Earth-616)   
> Carol Danvers/Captain Marvel: http://marvel.wikia.com/Carol_Danvers_(Earth-616)   
> Janet Van Dyne/The Wasp: http://marvel.wikia.com/Janet_van_Dyne_(Earth-616)   
> Peter Parker/Spiderman: http://marvel.wikia.com/Spider-Man_(Peter_Parker)   
> Wanda Maximoff/Scarlett Witch: http://marvel.wikia.com/Wanda_Maximoff_(Earth-616)   
> Pietro Maximoff/Quicksilver: http://marvel.wikia.com/Pietro_Maximoff_(Earth-616)   
> Wade Wilson/Deadpool: http://deadpool.wikia.com/wiki/Deadpool   
> Katherine ‘Kate’ Bishop/Hawkeye: http://marvel.wikia.com/Katherine_Bishop_(Earth-616)


	12. I’m Smarter than you and I’m Seven

# Chapter 12 – I’m Smarter than you and I’m Seven

It was Loki. Of course it was fucking Loki. Loki seemed unable to make it a week without harassing the Avengers. Nat and Clint constantly joked that he was lonely and just wanted some attention, they openly joked about it in front of Loki (who always turned bright red and vehemently denied it). But today they hit kind of a snafu. In which Loki had somehow managed to take out both Romanoff and Barton. It seemed he was done with their teasing and just wanted a bit of quiet. SHIELD medical was checking them over, and it seemed they would fully recover in little over half an hour. Thor was just lazily firing lightning at Loki, while Cap and Iron Man discussed tactics.  
“I don’t see why I can’t just fly up and blast him, it worked last time.”  
“Exactly, it worked last time so he has probably learnt from it.”  
“And so have I, I upgraded my armour Cap.”  
“That doesn’t mean you should put yourself in unnecessary risk.”  
“It’s fine Cap, it’s just me.”  
Without further discussion, Tony launched himself into the air, aiming straight for Loki. He was firing out beams of magic now, light dancing through them as purple and blue and green narrowly swept past Tony.  
“This is such a pathetic attempt, so obvious it’s like a child thought it up.” A beam of yellow light struck Tony in the chest. “Well I guess now, it is like one did.”  
Loki disappeared, but no one much cared because Tony was falling, falling without slowing. It was too much like that day when New York almost fell. He smashed into the ground, a crater forming beneath him. Cap was running, staring at the still form of Iron man. He was motionless.  
“Jarvis, is he okay?”  
There was desperation in Cap’s voice, there for everyone to hear but he didn’t care.  
“I am not sure, Captain Rogers. The situation is… peculiar.”  
He crouched down next to Iron Man, thanking the serum as he pried off bits of the armour, finding as many emergency releases as he could. He ripped the visor off and- huh- that he had not been expecting. Where he had expected to see Tony’s face, there was a mop of dark curls poking out from the neck. He quickly released the chest plate, noting that the arc reactor core was off. Panic followed as he ripped apart the suit. The panic was quickly replaced with confusion. A small boy was curled up in the chest section, body limp.  
“We have a casualty here, non-fatal but… unusual.”  
He could feel his voice rumble in his chest but he never registered saying those words. At once the whole team swooped down on him.  
“Well fuck me sideways.”  
“You stole the words from my mouth.”  
“Indeed, this is unusual. Where has my brother taken the man of iron?”  
Bruce bent down, carefully checking the child. “He’ll have several nasty bruises but nothing feels broken or damaged. Tony’s suits always protected him, so it must have protected the child too.”  
SHIELD medical personnel soon lifted the child onto a stretcher and carried him away.

 

SHIELD medical. Steve always hated being here, reminded him too much of his childhood spent in hospital. But he sat by the child, not wanting him to wake up alone in an unfamiliar place. Bruce walked in quietly behind.  
“Steve, this is… well this isn’t something any of us have been trained to deal with. Did you know Tony broke his leg when he was seven?”  
Steve shook his, wondering where this conversation was going.  
“Well, it was broken in several places along the femur and tibia. I’ll be honest, that many breaks, well it wasn’t accidental. And after x-rays, this child has breakage marks in the same places. The _exact_ same places. Cap, I don’t know how but I think this child is Tony. There’s no arc reactor though, so all I can guess is that this spell has literally reversed him.”  
Steve stared at Bruce, mouth gaping slightly. Fury entered the room.  
“What’s this I hear about Stark being a child? I-“ He caught sight of the child tucked up in bed, and his eye widened in shock. “That’s Stark alright.”  
“How do you-“  
“Howard brought him to SHIELD once, when he was six. He dumped him on me when I was a new recruit so he could work. I would never forget that day. Never was fond of that man. Take him back to the tower, I’ll get R &D to figure out what to do.”  
Steve scooped the still unconscious Tony into his arms and they headed to the Quinjet.

 

He was warm. He was in a bed. But it wasn’t his own. He opened his eyes to look around. Clean white walls and large ceiling to floor windows shaded black surrounded him. The room was monochrome and bland, very little in the way of colour or personal effects. Only a picture of a dark haired man with a very styled goatee and moustache was leaning against a man with salt and pepper hair in a purple dress shirt. He was smirking at the camera, not arrogant or pompous but happy and trying not to show it, the man in purple was smiling, small but sure, as if everything around him might disappear in an instant but he was enjoying it while he could. The dark haired man’s arm was resting on his shoulder. Behind him stood a large man with long blonde hair. He was grinning widely and looked a bit like an excited golden retriever puppy, his arms wrapped around the man in purple’s shoulder. A man with dirty blonde hair was sat down in front of them, traces of blood down the side of his face. A woman with red curls was laughing at him, not cruelly but amused by him. She was sewing up a wound on his arm. The man with the injuries was staring at the camera with fondness and something Tony couldn’t label in his eyes. The closest word he could find was affection, but it looked like so much more than that. Then his eyes drifted to a man in blue, white and red. Tony felt his eyes open wide as he stared at Captain America. It was probably some souvenir or gag gift but still, he was staring at the face of Captain America laughing at the people next to him. Like they were the best people in the world. The uniform was a bit different but Tony couldn’t fault people on that. So few people saw the real Captain. His dad had a picture, but Tony was only allowed to look at it when he’s been good. Lately Tony had always been bad, at least that’s what his dad said. He tried to tuck the photo frame under his arm, only then realising he was wearing a too big MIT sweatshirt that draped down to his knees, and baggy trousers that swamped his legs. He stood up, trousers immediately falling to his ankles. He pulled them up and tied a belt around them, having to create a new hole on the belt and rolling up the trousers and sleeves. He was dressed, he was warm and (relatively) uninjured, and for once he wasn’t tied to a chair. One of his better kidnappings, and now that was a depressing thought. He reached for the door handle, surprised to find it turned easily. Amateurs, didn’t even lock him in. Stepping out into the hallway, he found the entire place bathed in light. So not a warehouse. Or a basement. He padded softly to the window, the cold wood hard beneath his bare feet. Okay definitely not a basement. There would be no point jumping out of the window, a fall like that would definitely kill him. Must be, what, like thirty storeys up. He padded down to the next door, pushing it open slowly. He peered around, happy to find the room empty. He walked in, careful to watch he didn’t disturb anything in the room. Then a thundering of feet from all directions.  
“-vis said he’d woken up, but he’s not in his room. I should have stayed.”  
“Don’t worry Cap, I’ll block the exit. Clint’s checking the air vents, make sure he hasn’t crawled in there. Bruce has checked the workshop, and the lab, and well, every single one of Tony’s favourite places. Thor will go back to Asgard to find Loki, once we have found Tony. We need to find out if this is permanent. But Cap, we’ll find him. He’s only got little legs, he can’t get that far.”  
Tony looked around the room for a place to hide. Only then did he realise the room he stepped into. A massive library with shelves reaching close to the ceiling. His father’s smoking jacket was thrown over one of the chaise lounges. Why was his father’s jacket here? There was no time to think, Tony scrambled up the bookshelves, pushing himself against the wall. Not a moment too soon as it turned out. Two men burst through the door. Both blonde, one from the photo, the tall Labrador one built like a tower, the other built like- huh, now that’s a somewhat comical image, a paisley covered Dorito. Tony could feel himself shaking, whether from laughter or fear or just that he was purely hysterical he didn’t know, so forced himself to steady.  
“He’s in here.”  
“Captain, are you sure?”  
“Certain, look everywhere.”  
Tony clasped a hand over his mouth, trying to not make a sound. Steps drew closer to him. He could see the top of a golden blonde head, praying he wouldn’t look up. The head was bowed, glancing between shelves, as the shorter of the two paced behind him.  
“We need to find him, what if he gets himself killed?”  
The blonde head came up and Tony kicked out, quite proud that he knocked the large man back.  
“Thor?”  
“Got him.”  
The man named Thor grabbed his ankle and tugged him off the shelf. He was left dangling, kicking wildly at Thor’s legs, arms, anything he could reach. The man just laughed cheerily at his efforts.  
“Aye, this is the man of iron, a warrior even from a young age it seems.”  
“I’m not building you shit,” spat out Tony.  
“Put him down, you’re scaring him.”  
And just like that Tony was placed back on his feet, a hand still gripping his shoulder. The man holding him in place was dressed in armour, a red cape swooping around his ankles.  
“What are you, some out of work renaissance actor?” Tony mocked, fists clenched by his side.  
The Dorito knelt in front of him.  
“Hey. You got hurt pretty bad. Is it okay if I check you over.”  
“Hurt by you, you mean? I know the drill, not my first time, so don’t go pretending you are my friends. It was dark, I was trapped, then unconscious, and then I wake up in a strange place. It’s like a kidnapping best hits. I am not building you anything and good luck getting the fucking ransom. He’s not going to pay up,” his voice was dark, held steady through force of will and tattered pride.  
The Dorito looked confused and, wow that was weird, Tony could have sworn he saw hurt flash on his face.  
“We don’t want you to build us anything and we don’t want a ransom. Do you know your name?”  
“Steve. Steve Carter.”  
The Dorito couldn’t resist a smile.  
“You know I once knew a dame named Carter. Peggy Carter.”  
Tony narrowed his eyes, sharp and dark as obsidian beneath his curls.  
“Fuck off,” Tony spoke sharply, heat resonating in every syllable of the words.  
He looped his fingers in his shirt to stop them shaking. Peggy Carter was a friend of his dad’s, no way would she be involved with these kidnappers.  
“Oh please, there is no way in hell you know Agent Carter.”  
“Agent?” the Dorito whispered, “damn Peggy, congratulations.”  
Tony cursed his runaway mouth for giving them any extra information. Dad would be mad when he got home. And then cursed his stomach for grumbling in hunger. He couldn’t show any weakness. His father would be so mad.  
“You hungry?”  
Tony remained silent, staring unblinking into the warm blue eyes in front of him. Steve took his hands, to lead him to the kitchen.  
“Tell the others I’ve got him, Thor.”  
Tony’s hand was limp in Steve’s, playing at keeping himself calm. Steve crouched down in front of him again. His forehead bumped against Tony’s, looking straight into those scared brown eyes.  
“Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promised to protect you.”  
Tony wished he could believe him, but in the end he’s always hurt. In the end promises are always broken. Still he allowed his hand to tighten around the Dorito’s as his head dropped to stare at the floor.  
“I might be hungry.”

 

Tony sat at the kitchen table, legs swinging against the chair. The Dorito had called someone, who introduced himself as Clint, to do the cooking. He was standing happily at the oven, drinking coffee and baking something that smelled like BBQ pizza. Tony hoped it was pizza, that was his favourite. The Dorito sat down next to him, holding a cup of coffee. The smell was a comfort. Tony reached for it.  
“Uh-uh, nope you are too young for coffee,” admonished Clint, lightly smacking Tony’s hand with a spatula.  
“My dad lets me have coffee.” Clint nearly spat out a mouthful of the offending drink.  
“Your dad lets you have coffee?  
“Yeah, for when I’m working,” Tony shrugged, apparently unconcerned.  
“When you are _working_?”  
Tony looked at them both cautiously, “I build things to help with his company,” he replied, deliberately vague.  
“You help with his company? How old are you? How long have you been helping? Why were you helping?” Steve asked in a torrent  
“I’m seven and yeah since I was six. His hands shake a lot so I have to do the detail work. Plus he says I have to earn my keep,” his voice got smaller the more he spoke about his dad.  
They fell into silence for a moment as the information soaked in. Tony helped with his father’s company. And had been since he was six. And to earn his keep? What the hell was that about?  
“So what’s your actual name?” Steve asked.  
“How do you know that I’m not Steve Carter?” Tony shot back.  
“Because you are smart enough to not use your real name if you think you’ve been kidnapped,” Clint called over, without looking up from the oven.  
Tony eyed him suspiciously, instead asking a question of his own.  
“Why did you choose to make pizza?”  
“It’s your favourite.”  
“How do you know?”  
“Lucky guess,” Clint grinned back.  
Tony was clasping the photo frame beneath the table. Slowly he brought it up and set it on the table.  
“This was the only thing in the room I woke up in. Why?”  
“Now that I can’t answer. But I guess it’s because you- he spends more time in his workshop. You are more likely to find more of his things down there.”  
Tony looked at them both. They were open and friendly and smiling at him. He couldn’t help but feel safe here.  
“Tony. My name is Tony. How do you know my dad?”  
“How did you- Never mind. Mine’s Steve, I used to work with him.”  
“Clint, and never met the man.”  
“Did he give you that jacket?”  
“Jacket?”  
“The smoking jacket in the library.”  
Steve’s mouth formed a small ‘oh’, then he smiled sadly, “that belongs to Mr Stark”  
Tony perked up a little. So his dad stays here, at least some times. He flinched as someone brushed against him. His father always tried to _remove_ that reflex. After all, what does the heir of a weapons manufacturing company have to be afraid of? A hand ruffled his curls, a friendly gesture. A woman brushed her own curls back behind her ear and wandered over to Clint.  
“Sorry, did I startle you?”  
“No, I’m fine. I just- I should have heard you coming.”  
“Few people ever hear me coming, but I will try to make more noise for you next time.”  
Tony nodded gratefully.  
“You don’t like people sneaking up on you?”  
“No, who does?”  
“Fair point, but you particularly hate it.”  
“I normally get hurt when people I don’t know sneak up on me. When I am hurting Dad is mad.”  
Those words were deliberate, selected carefully. The order was chosen with care as well. Steve was frowning at him a little, until he caught himself and smoothed his face into an easy smile.  
“You’ve been kidnapped before?”  
“Before now, you mean?” he replied with a slight smile.  
“We aren’t kidnapping you Tony, we are looking after you.”  
“Yeah, it’s common knowledge I’ve been kidnapped before. Don’t you read the papers? It’s usually about once every six or so months. Dad sometimes pays the ransom but once I turned six he refused to pay. So usually now that government agency he works for gets me. Or I get myself out of it.”  
“Do they hurt you?”  
“Sometimes,” he shrugs, but his hand trails down to his leg.  
Definitely not an accident. Silence falls on the kitchen until Tony coughs. Tony’s eyes were flicking between the red haired woman and the man cooking pizza.  
“You are both in the picture.”  
Everyone turned to look at him and only then did Tony realise he spoke.  
“Sorry,” he murmured, head down and staring at the floor.  
“Don’t be,” the red head smiled at him, “that’s the Avengers, all of us. We all have code names. Clint’s is Hawkeye, I’m Natasha AKA Black Widow. Steve here is Captain America.”  
Tony’s expression clouded over.  
“Liar.”  
The red head visibly tensed. Clint silently placed slices of pizza in front of everyone, and hopped onto the counter.  
“What have I lied about?”  
“Dad told me the story. Captain America fought his way across Nazi Germany, then saved New York, and the entire Eastern Seaboard by crashing a Hydra plane into the Artic. The ultimate hero. He was brave. Auntie Peggy told me so. Even before the serum he was awesome, standing up to bullies, jumping on grenades to protect other people. Dad is searching for him, but he can’t find him. He’s been looking for years. If he had found him, I would have heard about it. Just so he could prove it to me. Trust me, I would know if Captain America had been found. So,” he said turning to Steve, “you are either a fake, a fraud, or you are all trying to trick me. So which is it?”  
They all sat in silence. Tony staring Steve down. Steve blinked first. Then he rose and left the room. Tony glared at the others. Clint grabbed him, stopping him from fleeing. His hand tightened on his wrist and Tony instantly pulled back with a high pitched yelp, other hand reaching out to clutch it.  
“Sorry Tony, did I hurt you?”  
“No. I’m fine.”  
But he could feel it, the bruising. The scabs and scars across his back, he needed to check.  
“Excuse me.”  
Tony got up and left, searching for a bathroom. He needed to get a bandage, tissues, anything to stem the flow. He opened one door after another trying to find the bathroom. He opened a door to find Steve sat on a bed, hands ghosting over the shield in his lap. Tony glanced at him, fleeting. His eyes found the open door to the bathroom.  
“Hey, do you mind if I use-?”  
“Go ahead.”  
Tony walked into the bathroom, running his hand up his back. He withdrew his hand, blood staining it. He needed to fix this soon, or these Avengers or whatever would say something to his dad, and dad had told him to never tell anyone. He couldn’t even do this simplest thing. Useless, useless, useless. He grabbed a wad of toilet roll and held it to his back, trying to find the right position. Gentle fingers pulled back his hand.  
“Tony, who did this to you?”  
“FUCK!”  
He pulled his arm from Steve’s grip, wincing as the skin twisted. He started running. Steve grabbed his other arm.  
“Hey, hey. It’s okay. What’s wrong? How did you hurt yourself?”  
“You don’t want to know. No one does.”  
“I very much do want to know. So who hurt you?”  
Tony stared at the floor.  
“You are the real Captain America aren’t you?”  
“Yeah.”  
“That’s the real shield, it’s got the marks from Aunt Peggy’s bullets.”  
Steve smiled, happy to reminisce such a fond memory. He looked down at Tony who was looking deeply ashamed of himself.  
“My dad isn’t coming is he?”  
“I’m sorry Tony.”  
“He wouldn’t leave me here, the press would have a field-day. And this isn’t the boarding school threat. He’s dead, isn’t he?”  
That wasn’t really a question but Steve answered it anyway.  
“Yeah, I’m really sorry Tony.”  
“Why do you care?”  
“Well I knew him for a brief time, but I’m more worried about his son right now. So how did you get hurt?”  
“I was bad.”  
“What do you mean?”  
His voice had no judgement, just honest to God compassion. Like he cared about Tony.  
“I- I don’t know. I deserved it.”  
“You’re hurting aren’t you?”  
Tony shook his head, trying to ignore the wetness in his eyes. His dad never liked him crying. Sign of weakness and Stark men weren’t allowed to be weak. They had iron in their blood and bones. Water would only make him rusty and brittle.  
“It’s fine, it’s doesn’t hurt,” he sniffed.  
“I don’t mean your wrist or your back. You’ve been given a difficult lot in life haven’t you? Howard never hit…”  
Tony nodded, a slight movement of his head enough to confirm Steve’s worst fears.  
“Can I see?”  
Tony nodded again, turning around and raising the shirt. Across his back broad scars crisscrossed over skin, some pale slivers almost healed, others painful red. A few places scabbed, skin broken and blood flowing freely.  
“With a belt,” Tony said, his voice empty, “whenever I… didn’t finish… or it wasn’t good enough… or when I disturbed his work…”  
The words hung in the silence.  
“Can I help?”  
Again Tony just nodded. For his size, Steve was incredibly gentle. Carefully, he pushed back the left sleeve, looking at the bruising. A tight grip, fingers and a ring evident in the bruise. Then he cleaned up Tony’s back, a pained hiss escaping the small child as Steve applied the alcohol and anti-septic wipes. Dressing the wounds he wrapped Tony up in a clean, plain white t-shirt from Steve’s draw as well as shorts that fit a little better than the far too big jeans.  
“I’m sorry Sir, for calling you a fake. I didn’t mean- I- well. I didn’t think you’d ever be here. It seemed so impossible.”  
“It’s okay Tony, I find it hard to believe myself. Do you want me to tell you the truth about everything?”  
Tony nodded.  
“First of all, do you believe in magic?”  
“Which kind sir?”  
“Huh?”  
“Like the Gandalf the Gray kind?”  
“I don’t even know what that is.”  
“You don’t know who Gandalf is?” Tony asked incredulous, “Like wizards and wands, because no, I don’t believe in that. But other worlds, yes. And they might be more advanced, so much so that we call it magic. Once the lightbulb and the telephone were the forefront of scientific advancement, now… Well I’ve seen your kitchen.”  
“Yeah, it gets upgraded a lot by our resident mad scientist. But that’s good, that really helps with this. Can I take that picture you are holding? Just for a second?”  
Tony handed over the picture and Steve smiled.  
“The man with dark hair looks a bit like Dad.”  
“That makes sense, because you see, well your version of magic exists. There was this man who comes from a world more advanced than ours. And he hit you with a spell. Because of it you became this age. Really you are this man here.”  
He pointed out the dark haired man.  
“He looks happy.”  
“Really? He looks kind of smug to me.”  
“No. He’s happy but he doesn’t want to show it. People leave us, if he’s me then he’s not used to having people. He’s scared he’ll be left too, but he’s starting to believe. Jarvis is the only person who hasn’t left me yet. Aunt Peggy went back to England, and Dad is… was always in the Artic. Mom spent a lot of time doing charity work so she didn’t really have time. Jarvis stayed though. Is Jarvis still- actually I don’t know if I want to know the answer.”  
“Jarvis was-?”  
“The human Jarvis was his butler, Captain Rogers.”  
The voice made them both jump. Tony smiled at the ceiling. It was small and it was sad but he smiled.  
“And you are Just A Rather Very Intelligent System, I presume.”  
“That is correct sir, as you always planned,” replied the AI, amusement in his voice.  
Tony was crying now, smile bright on his face.  
“Jarvis…” his face turned to Steve, “so adult me is friends with Captain America. I don’t believe this.”  
“You now can be too.”  
Tony’s eyes went wide, amazement clear on his features.  
“Really?” he whispered.  
“Really.”  
Tony almost started to go forward, then appeared to think better of it. Steve recognised the signs, seen them in Adult Tony. A child stumbling with affection he’d never been taught how to show. Easier to make a snide comment or brush off a compliment, although Tony as a child hadn’t learnt deflection yet.  
“Want a hug?” Tony nodded, frantic and excited.  
Steve held his arms open and Tony threw himself at him. Steve politely ignored the growing wet patch on his shirt and the gentle shaking of Tony’s shoulders. He held Tony until his breathing steadied.  
“Are you tired?”  
Tony nodded slowly against his chest, his breath warm through Steve’s shirt. Steve picked him up and carried him out to Tony’s room. Steve had Tony held in one hand, the photo in the other. He settled Tony into bed, who was asleep in seconds. Steve placed the picture next to him and smiled.  
“Happy, huh? I’m glad.”  
He leaned down and brushed a kiss against Tony’s forehead. Tony hummed in his sleep, mouth curling into a smile.

 

Steve padded out to the kitchen, where Nat and Clint stood expectant and waiting.  
“Is he-?”  
“Fine. He’s asleep right now.”  
“And he-?”  
“Apologised for calling me a fraud.”  
“Does he-?”  
“Know he’s under a spell. I told him.”  
“Can you-?”  
“Stop finishing everything you say. No, I know you guys too well by now.”  
Nat smiled while Clint stood agog. Natasha glanced at the clock and started laughing.  
“So his weird sleep habits started early then.”  
It was 1pm, an unusual time to crash out. But Steve smiled because as long as Tony was sleeping here in the tower he was safe.  
“Any word from Thor?”  
“Nothing Cap, still in Asgard trying to track down his brother.”  
“Tony hasn’t had a good childhood,” said Steve hesitantly.  
Coulson walked into the room, “I’m not surprised, Howard spent more time at SHIELD than at home. Never easy on a young child.”  
“Howard wasn’t a good father. He was a good man when I knew him but I guess people change.”  
“Or alcohol changes people,” scoffed Clint.  
“What?”  
“He was a drunk Cap. Tony seems to have picked up many habits from his dad,” Natasha said softly, “it’s all in his file,” she quickly added when Steve glared at her, “he could have hacked in and removed that little detail if he wanted. Never seemed to really care about it though.”  
“He’s been a lot better lately.”  
“Yeah, basically quit drinking,” Natasha agreed.  
Bruce wandered into the room, yawning and brushing back his hair. He glanced around the room and visibly relaxed.  
“You okay Bruce?”  
“Yeah, yeah. Just making sure Tony wasn’t here. Me and- well me and small children doesn’t work out well. A bit too stressful. I wouldn’t want the Other Guy to show up.”  
Bruce grabbed a coffee and leaned against the table. He picked up a slice of the untouched now cold pizza.  
“Good food, Clint I assume?”  
“I am the best.”  
“At pizza, I’m better at curries. And I guess I’ll give you archery too.”  
“Still the best.”  
They all took a seat at the table, munching on cold pizza.  
“So what are you going to do with mini Tony?” asked Clint.  
“What _we_ are going to do is find a way to reverse the spell.”  
“And if it can’t be reversed?”  
“Then we look after Tony.”  
“You expect us to look after a kid? Of course you do, Captain do-good.”  
A clap of thunder announced a certain demi-god’s return. He stepped out from the balcony, full armour always a glory to behold. Everyone stared at him, waiting for the news with bated breath. Thor looked tired, as he sunk into the only spare seat. A deep sigh and then he spoke, his deep booming voice, soft and careful.  
“I found my brother. He told me that Tony would retain some memories from this experience. Also that there are certain requirements the Man of Iron must fulfil.”  
“Which are?”  
“First, he must feel entirely at ease. Safe.”  
“And he thinks we kidnapped him so that is _super_ likely.”  
“Secondly, he must wish to return to his old form.”  
“Okay, that one is slightly more likely, he seems to resent reaching up for door handles around here.”  
“Finally, it must happen between the hours of dusk or dawn.”  
“I hate Loki. Always a drama queen.”  
“He is my brother, and I too disapprove of his actions. The only other way is for Loki to undo the spell himself but he refused and disappeared.”  
“Well… This is going to be difficult. Does Tony ever feel at ease?”

 

Tony woke, comfort quickly outweighing shock or fear. So this wasn’t a dream. He was stuck here. It was dark, late into the night. Tony padded down the hall, back towards the library. He stepped inside staring at the towers upon towers of history books and academic journals. He found an ancient copy of a book written by Howard when Tony was three. The original copy. He pulled out a thesis on Arc Reactor technology, something Dad always wanted to complete. He wasn’t allowed to disturb dad’s work so he shoved it back roughly into the shelf. He pulled out a book on Gamma radiation and sat on the chaise lounge, reading it. He dragged the smoking jacket over himself. After finishing the book (four hundred pages in an hour and a half), he padded out the room and down the hall, heading towards a room with light creeping around the door. He looked in, gazing in wonder at the lab before his feet. Machines towered over him. A man, the same man in the purple shirt from the picture, was bent over a microscope, brow furrowed in concentration. He glanced up at the sound of Tony’s feet scuffing the floor. Tony instantly started backing up.  
“You shouldn’t be here,” said the man quietly.  
Tony flinched like the man had been shouting. He knew what that tone meant. Pain was coming.  
“No, no, no. I’m sorry Tony. It’s okay. Want to-“  
“I’m sorry I disturbed your work sir. I promise it won’t happen again.”  
Tony scurried from the room, blindly trying to find a place to go far away from the man. He could hear him cursing as the man stepped into the hall and walked in the opposite direction. Tony ran down a set of stairs and straight into a glass wall. Rubbing his nose, he placed his hand on the glass by the door, staring into the dark room. The second he placed his hand on the glass, lights flickered on. A keypad appeared by his hand. If this place belonged to adult Tony there is only one code he would pick. Carefully he typed it out, tongue poking out his mouth in concentration.

07-04-18

The door opened, and Tony stepped inside. A giant robot instantly rolled up and Tony hugged it.  
“So I built you, huh. I finally built you. Dad said it was impossible, a waste of time. But I built you.”  
The claw grabbed his shirt and picked him up. He rolled over to the sofa and dumped a giggling Tony on top.  
“Jarvis, what did I call him?”  
“Dummy, sir. The two in their charging stations are Butterfingers and You.”  
“Dummy,” he murmured, fingers trailing along the curves of the metal.  
The robot just chirped, rocking back and forth on its wheels.  
“Sir, Captain Rogers would like to enter the workshop.”  
“Okay Jarvis.” Steve padded in and sat down next to Tony.  
Tony was lying upside down, legs flipped over the back of the couch.  
“Bruce, the man you saw in the lab, is really sorry for scaring you.”  
“It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have bothered him while he was working.”  
“He didn’t mind.”  
“People don’t like to be disturbed when they are experimenting.”  
Steve saw Tony’s hand rub absently down his back.  
“I can’t work my phone Tony, do you think you could help?”  
Tony’s eyes lit up, even if with his current memories he had no idea what a mobile phone was. It was a challenge and Tony loved nothing better.  
“Of course sir.”  
Tony snatched the phone from his hand and ran over to the computer. Kneeling on a stool, he began frantically typing code once the phone was plugged in. In all of thirty seconds the phone was back in Steve’s hand, a beaming Tony at his feet.  
“Wow. Just wow. That was amazing, how did you do that so quickly?”  
Tony’s smile died, “it was nothing Mr Captain Sir. Just a new integration of software to update the user interface. I should have done it quicker.”  
“No seriously, I mean how often have you used a mobile?”  
“Never.”  
“So you just picked up a piece of unfamiliar technology and knew how to integrate software?”  
Tony nodded silently.  
“Then that is amazing.”  
Tony mouthed a ‘thank you’, his lower lip quivering.  
“Want to watch a film upstairs?”  
“Yes please, Mr Captain sir.”  
“Steve is fine,” he said with a grin.  
“Do you mind waiting for a second, Mr Steve?”  
“Of course not.”  
Tony ran to the workbench, finding a small notebook left on the table. He grabbed a pen and hastily scrawled a note. He shuffled over to Steve and took his hand.  
“Can you give this to adult Tony when he comes back?”  
“Of course.”  
“Can you also not read it?”  
“I promise. You said give it to adult Tony. Is he coming back soon?”  
“I think so. You seem to really miss him. He misses you. I think he’s kind of aware of what is happening. In here” Tony rubbed his forehead, “I can sort of feel him in there, like a constant headache.”  
“He makes a lot of people feel that way,” Steve joked, getting a smile out of Tony.  
“I don’t think you mean that. And he’s worried about you. But I think he’s very tired. He’s spent a lot of time sleeping.”  
“I’m not surprised, he works himself too hard. I worry about him a lot.”  
“You love him. Adult him.”  
It was stated so point blank that Steve could only blink at him. Then the words sunk in.  
“Yeah I do. I really do. I love him more than anything else.”  
Tony smiled, his teeth bright and white against his golden skin.  
“Then the man I’ll grow up to be is very lucky.”  
With that Tony took Steve’s hand and followed the trail of lights Jarvis conjured to the entertainments room, Tony leading the way. They both curled up on the sofa, Aladdin playing on the TV. Tony was looking at him curiously, eyes lit in pale early dawn light.  
“Dad told me your story. They found you, believed you to be a diamond in the rough. They were wrong. You were always a diamond,” he said on a yawn.  
“You are a diamond too Tony.”  
That earned him a bitter laugh, too bitter to be coming from a seven year old.  
“Please, I’m just graphite. Dull, grey, boring. I am no diamond, rough or otherwise.”  
He twisted on the sofa, arms wrapping around Steve’s arm.  
“You are a diamond, whether you see it or not. You are definitely like Abu though, a complete monkey. Can’t believe we found you on top of bookshelves.”  
Tony smiled against Steve’s arm and fell asleep with the suddenness only a child could manage. Steve tucked his head into Tony’s curls and drifted off to sleep.

 

“Tony,” Steve called.  
That was nice, his tone was warm and gentle, trying to wake Tony from his sleep without startling him.  
“I always fall asleep next to you lately,” Tony joked, voice croaking.  
“Tony, you’re you again.” His eyes crept open to gape at a clearly overjoyed Rogers.  
“Yes, I am me. I am always me. Did you have a weird dream or something?”  
“Quite possibly, I need to check on something.”  
And like that Steve stood up, dislodging Tony’s body from its very comfortable position of lying against Steve’s arm and chest. He pushed himself up, scratching his beard in the process. The photo that always remained on his nightstand was in front of him on the coffee table. A scrawled note was tucked into the frame.

_Knowing you, well me, you probably won’t believe any of this. But I can’t believe adult me is friends with Captain America. No. I can’t believe adult me is friends with Steve Rogers. He likes you a lot so don’t fuck up. That’s what we do. A lot. But you can’t with this one. So be nice. You have the nicest friends, but you may want to apologise to the Golden Retriever. I think I kicked him in the face. And Natasha, I called her a liar. And Clint because I never ate the pizza he made for me. And Bruce because I disturbed his experiment. I’m sorry if I fucked it all up. But I don’t think I did. At all. They all really like you and I know you don’t see it because I wouldn’t have seen it if I wasn’t looking from the outside. I know you so I know you are hiding your smile in the photo. I feel weird lecturing myself but you need this. Don’t hide your smile. At least not for these people. Also please tell them ‘I’m only seven and I’m smarter than you all. I mean I managed to hide from Captain America, Black Widow, Hawkeye, and Thor. All at once. I am awesome’._

_Yours, Anthony Stark_

_P.S. Just so you believe this is me, I’m going to tell you something only I would know. Jarvis was named after your butler because Jarvis was the only person who told you he loved you. Until recently at least. And not in the same way._

Tony just stared at the piece of paper. It made absolutely no sense. It was definitely written by him, and judging by the handwriting, which was still neat because he hadn’t abandoned appearance for speed just yet, he must have been about seven, maybe eight. He glanced down at his wrists, still feeling his dad’s tight grasp around him. He looked at the unfamiliar overly large white t-shirt, twisting himself around to look at his back. The pain had never quite faded. He ran to his room, swapping his clothes out for black jeans, a white dress shirt and a suit jacket, peeling away the layers of dressing on his back to reveal smooth skin. He headed down to the kitchen, aware that a coffee withdrawal headache was rearing its ugly head. He gave the ‘one minute here’ signal, lifting a single finger into the air as all eyes turned to face him. He grabbed a mug and filled it to the brim with coffee so strong it could only be described as toxic. After taking a few mouthfuls he turned to everyone.  
“Okay, what did I miss?”  
“Well Loki cast a spell and he-“  
“Turned you into an infant and you-“  
“Thought you’d been kidnapped by us all so-“  
“You kicked Thor in the face, and might I add that was brave, but you-“  
“Calmed down once Steve spoke to you and-“  
“you ended up falling asleep but you-“  
“never ever stay asleep so-“  
“partway through the night you ended up in my lab but you ran out and-“  
“Ended up in the workshop, you knew your code somehow. You fixed my phone then we watched Aladdin. We fell asleep and when I woke up you were like this.”  
Tony took the barrage of information in his stride.  
“First up-“ he waved the piece of paper in his hand, “- kid me wanted to apologise to, well basically to you all. Nat for calling you a liar, Clint for not eating the pizza you cooked for me- him, Bruce for bothering you when you were working, and Thor I am so sorry I kicked you in the face. I was a vicious little shit. Still am. Jesus you guys have the patience of saints.”  
“Actually I found him to be politer than you normally- well once he realised we weren’t kidnappers- can we swap back?” Clint joked.  
“I’m sure seven year old me would love that but no. And of course I was politer.”  
Natasha cocked her head to the side. Tony did a one shouldered shrug.  
“When the whole world wants something from you, they take manners for granted. If you want to keep something you have to find a way to fight for it. Scrawny eleven year old Tony learnt that in boarding school. Get rude and people back off. Only reserve manners for people who matter.”  
Tony took a sip of his coffee, scrunching up his nose as if he only now realised how strong and bitter it was. Then he was assaulted with sugar packets. One landed on his head and stayed caught in his tangled mass of dark curls. He reached up, plucked it from his hair and ripped it open with his teeth. After the sugar was added Tony took a content sip.  
“That’s good coffee, thanks whoever made that shot.”  
The team smiled at him until he felt his cheeks tinge.  
“What?”  
“Nothing, nothing Stark. Just glad to have you back.”

 

It took a few days but eventually Steve built up the courage to ask Tony. He waited until Tony was in his workshop and alone. He tapped on the glass and Tony waved him in with a look that screamed ‘what are you knocking for? Get your ass in here.’ Tony was building some bizarre gun, a white casing with black metal and wires trailing around it.  
“Hey Steve, want to know what the difference between Hero and Villain is?”  
“Motive? Sense of morals?”  
“Nah,” Tony grinned manically.  
He fired the gun against the wall and a bright blue circle fixed on the wall. He picked up a second gun and fired it at the ceiling. Suddenly there was an orange circle on the ceiling only it was a window between the two. Tony stepped into the blue circle and fell from the ceiling. He landed with a heavy thump. Steve rushed over to help him to his feet. He held his wrists as Tony found his balance again.  
“It’s style Steve. The Heroes have style.”  
“You just fell on your butt and you believe the Villains of the world can’t handle your style?”  
“I just made freakin’ portal guns and you are more worried about my ass. I expected better from you Rogers,” Tony winked at him.  
“How did you even make those?”  
“Well the game covered a lot of the coding, I just had to adjust some equations, rewrite some of the codes and voila. Portal Guns. Want to play? Jarvis can be GLaDOS.”  
“No Sir I cannot.” “  
You mean you will not,” Tony responded, waving a hand in the air with a flourish.  
“Indeed sir I mean I will not.”  
Steve laughed, relaxing into how comfortable Tony was down here. But he needed to ask him.  
“Tony, can I see your back?”  
Tony froze, laughter dying in his throat. Just a second of his mask slipping away then it was right back in place. He smiled jauntily, full of bravado.  
“Sure Cap, always happy to satisfy your weird fetishes.”  
He flipped around, tugging up his dirty black tank top. Steve carefully ran his hands against the skin, feeling every slight bump and indent left by thick leather, feeling Tony shiver beneath his touch. Golden skin marred by sunken darker tones and raised lighter tones.  
“Oh Tony,” said Steve softly.  
“Just a few battle scars,” Tony said bright and lightly, but the look Steve cast at him, pained and sad but without pity.  
It just took that look and Tony felt any comforting words falter before they could be formed. Sweet lies were usually so preferable to the truth and they used to drip off his tongue with ease.  
“Let me guess, seven year old me snitched?”  
“Tony.”  
“It wasn’t that bad, hasn’t happened since I was what, sixteen or seventeen, and it’s healed, barely noticeable really and never cut deep, not really, it was never life threatening and I mean I can easily hide it and I know it’s ugly and you probably think it’s ugly and I have looked into fixing it but there isn’t a way to and can you please say something? Anything?”  
Steve had no words. Ten years. At least ten years of a man Steve once was proud to know hurting such a bright, witty, amazing child. Steve didn’t realise he did it. It wasn’t a conscious decision but one he has never regretted. He turned Tony to face him and brought Tony’s wrist to his lips and his lips ghosted across the place bruises once lay, soft tender kisses until he covered the entire ugly mark that felt permanently etched into his mind.  
“I just don’t want you to be hurting.”  
Then it was like a circuit shorted in Tony’s brain. He was pushing Steve back against the wall, his lips on Steve’s. Chaste and soft, reverent in touch and heat, a complete contrast to the way Tony had pushed him back. Tentative. Then Tony’s brain came back online. He pushed himself away. A stuttered apology and he was gone. Steve stood, the wall holding him up.  
“What the hell was that?” he asked no one.


	13. Midnight Wanderings

# Chapter 13 - Midnight Wanderings

Tony Stark barely slept. This was a well-known fact to the Avengers, to Coulson, to Pepper and Rhodey. He also barely ate, most of his calorie intake coming from coffee. Again, everyone in Tony’s life knew this. But no one, not even Tony himself, knew that he sleep-walked. It was rare, when he couldn’t keep himself up long enough to complete a list of tasks that had grown too long for one man to complete. Essentially when Tony was swamped in work he would Zombie his way through it. It often led to arguments because Pepper asked Tony to sweep the kitchen and the kitchen got swept but Tony always denied doing it, never one to take credit for someone else’s work. Pepper thought he hired cleaners when she wasn’t looking. Or Tony argued with Rhodey about adjustments to the War Machine that Tony believed he never made, it made him furious that Rhodey would take his tech to someone else. Which, of course, Rhodey denied. Once the Avengers had moved in it had led to arguments about food. Someone was using the most random combinations or taking all the best food, often leaving the kitchen in a mess with piles of cooked food or open packets everywhere, but no one would ‘fess up. Tony never cared enough to check the security feed, just buying replacements for it all. No one else cared much either once the food arrived. Natasha always did a sweep after an incident occurred, never finding anything or anyone.

 

Lately Tony Stark had fallen very behind in work. Stark Industries, Board Meetings, Avengers, and hiding from Steve all kept him very busy. He needed to produce new designs on the StarkPad by tomorrow, the StarkPhone in two days, he needed to repair the armour, maybe upgrade too, since Avengers were being called out almost daily, and hiding from Steve meant Tony could not spend nearly as much time in his workshop as he needed to, then there were updates and upgrades to Jarvis and the Bots to consider. Work was piling up and the team was insistent on him sleeping. Tony waited until midnight and snuck down to the workshop. The designs didn’t take long to complete, the phone was finished in no time. Tony could feel his eyes drooping after the phone was done. Nope, must stay awake. A cup of coffee should help. He wandered into the kitchen and sunk into a chair, promptly falling asleep.

 

Tony was standing there with a blow torch in one hand, soldering iron in the other, working on the suit when Steve entered the workshop.   
“I knew I’d find you in here but you’re meant to be asleep. Go back to bed Tony,” his voice fondly exasperated.   
Tony made no attempted to move, visor down against the sparks that the blow torch was sending out. Steve gently took the soldering iron from his hand, switching it off and laying it out on the damp sponge Tony had to the side. He turned the blow torch off and removed it from Tony’s hands. Tony’s empty hands continued working on the suit. Steve furrowed his brow.   
“Tony, time for bed.”   
Tony continued working, eyes unblinking as his hands darted around the armour.   
“Can you hear me? Tony?”   
Still nothing, well not until Tony reached for an empty coffee cup and drank from it. He then started moving towards the door. Steve followed, confused, as Tony walked up and into the kitchen. He pulled all manner of foods out. Steve chuckled softly.   
“So it was you, I had my suspicions since it always seemed to make up your favourites. Why not just say? I mean you pay-“   
Steve stopped short as Tony placed the food on the table, picked up a sponge and spray and cleaned the counters.   
"Tony, you’re- you’re cleaning. Are you feeling okay?”   
When Tony still didn’t respond Steve walked over, resting the back of his hand on Tony’s head. Tony didn’t stop moving, arm working furious circles across the counter. His breathing remained constantly steady, deeply in and out. After a few minutes of cleaning, Tony brought the food over to the counter. He began dicing onion with deadly accuracy, moving on to score a piece of meat – beef – before lightly frying both in a pan for a minute. He took the pan off the heat and shoved it onto the counter. Then he washed new potatoes and spring beans and set them up to boil. Once they reached boiling point Tony reduced it to a simmer. A few minutes later he shoved the pan into the hot oven. Then he pulled it out with a bare hand before Steve could stop him. He didn’t even flinch at the pain as he placed the pan on the side but Steve was by his side instantly. He grabbed Tony’s hand and shoved it under the cold tap, reaching into the freezer to grab an ice pack.   
“Geez Tony, the pan. You- it was hot, why did you grab it?”   
Tony remained silent and began plating up the meal with one hand. The other was clasped in Steve’s, holding the ice pack against the red skin. It was already blistering. Tony handed the plate to Steve and moved to the kitchen chair. He pillowed his arms on the table and head bowed into them. His hand still grasped the ice pack. It was the strangest thing Steve had ever seen, and he’s seen a Norse God turn an adult into a child with barely a flick of the wrist only three days ago. But Tony Stark able to clean and cook a decent meal from scratch without a recipe, now that was something else. Steve sat down next to Tony, knife and fork in hand as he ate the steak, cooked to perfection. Tony began twitching, faint whimpers escaping him.   
“Tony?”   
His breathing was changing, sucking in air every few minutes, rasping with each gasp. Steve recognised the signs, the nightmare coming strong. Steve placed his arms around Tony, trying to get him to calm down. Tony’s body was limp in his arms, just the shuddering of his chest. Steve pulled him carefully out the chair and carried him to the sofa in the entertainments room. He picked a Disney film, any film, the voices soothing Tony back into a calm sleep as Steve stroked up and down his back. After half an hour Tony opened his eyes, looking incredibly disorientated through the sleep.   
“Where am I?”   
“You are in the entertainments room of Stark Tower.”   
“Avengers Tower,” mumbled Tony.   
“What?”   
“I’m changing the name, legally and all.”   
Steve smiled at him.   
“Why were you cooking?”   
Tony frowned, “I wasn’t, I can’t cook. Ask Pepper, she’ll tell you.”   
“But…”   
Steve looked at the door, imagining the state of the kitchen. Then his thoughts jumped back to Tony.   
“Your hand Tony, let me see it.”   
Tony held out his hands, shock at seeing the burn there.   
“How did I-?”   
“You took a hot pan out of the over without gloves. What were you thinking?”   
“I didn’t do that, I don’t go near the oven. Seriously one minute I’m asleep in the kitchen and the next I’m in here. Why am I in here?”   
“Nightmare, films and this room always seems to help. And yeah, after working on the suit you went to the kitchen, cooked and fell asleep.”   
“I didn’t work on the suit Steve.”   
Tony had his eyebrows raised, clearly doubting Steve.   
“I’ll even prove it, look, Jarvis bring up the security footage from last night, workshop and kitchen from about 12:50am.”   
Tony looked smugly as he finished up the StarkPhone and walked upstairs, falling into the chair. He turned to Steve smirking.   
“See, didn’t work on the suit.”   
When he turned back to the screen he was gone from the chair. He looked questioningly at Steve who was gaping at the screen. Tony had moved down into the workshop, lighting a blowtorch and plugging in a soldering iron. About ten minutes later Steve was down in the workshop snagging his tools and talking to him.   
“You didn’t come down into the workshop.”   
“Yes I did Tony, it’s on the film.”   
“But you were talking to me, I would have answered,” he said looking stricken, “why didn’t I answer? It makes no sense. I don’t even remember. How do I not remember?”   
Tony was staring at the screen in disbelief as he began cooking.   
“Tony, do you- do you sleepwalk?”   
“Sleepwalking is a myth isn’t it?”   
“Well a guy in the barracks used to. He’d get up, wander into the showers, turn on three of them and then return to bed. Never bothered the others but I’m a light sleeper.”   
“Actually sir, sleepwalking is well documented. I can forward several academic journals to your email should you wish to read them.”   
“No need Jarvis. I believe him.”   
Steve should not be smiling as widely as he was at that.   
“So you think I sleepwalk?”   
“Well it seems that way. Any idea why you would?”   
Tony swallowed, biting back all immediate responses. He didn’t like any of them.   
“Jarvis, what causes sleepwalking?”   
“Multiple factors sir. Including sleep deprivation-“ Tony winced, “abuse of recreational drugs and or alcohol-“ Tony winced, “and being startled from deep sleep.” Tony winced.   
“So yeah, sounds like me.”   
“Jarvis, can you wake me up every time Tony starts sleepwalking?”   
“Of course Capt-“   
“You don’t need to Steve, I can-“   
Steve shot him a ‘just stop talking’ look, “Tony, you burned your hand. You have seriously hurt yourself and you could do again. I am waking up when you sleepwalk. I don’t need much sleep anyway.”   
Tony just frowned.   
“But I’m just causing you trouble lately,” he frowned.   
“Not trouble Tony.”   
Tony just stayed silent, hand rubbing his back slightly.   
“Any idea why you cook and clean? Like I understand the suit but…”   
“What day is it?”   
“Today? It’s Saturday.”   
“Isn’t that my day to clean?”   
“Yeah, though you never do. Someone always does it at nigh-oooh.”   
“Hmm that makes sense.”   
Tony was nodding slightly, his mind racing.   
“Care to share?”   
“Well I have two massive deadlines coming up, a board meeting today at three, I need to fix the suit and I haven’t upgraded in weeks so I need to do that too, plus the cleaning. I guess I can’t sleep if I have work to do. Plus Jarvis tried nagging me, how many times was it?”   
“Twenty-three, sir.”   
“Into eating and I might have ignored him.”   
He shrugged, apparently unconcerned now that they solved the mystery of why he hadn’t responded to Steve.   
“Look I’m a headcase, how about we just watch a film? Hercules okay?”   
“Yeah sure.”   
Tony flicked away the security footage and brought up Netflix. He plonked his head on Steve’s lap, legs up on the couch. He glanced up, catching Steve’s smirk.   
“Stop smirking, it’s comfy. Didn’t even know Captain America could smirk,” he joked, likely smacking Steve in the chest.   
Steve’s hand carded through Tony’s hair as they both drifted off.

 

“Captain.”   
Steve was awake in moments, finding Tony sitting up. His eyes were open but unfocused and he was waving his hands as though dealing with holograms. Steve gently pulled his hands down and Tony frowned at his imagined work. He was listing slightly into Steve as he pulled him back to the couch. Dragging a blanket down from the back, Steve threw it over Tony. Tony’s eyes closed again and he settled back into Steve’s lap. Steve watched him for a few minutes then let himself fall back asleep.

 

The morning light shone brightly through the window, as the annoyed yell of Natasha resounded through the apartment.   
“Okay WHO FUCKED UP THE KITCHEN AGAIN?”   
Tony started awake at the yell, Steve jumping at the noise as well. They looked at each other and grinned sheepishly.   
“Should I-?”   
“Yeah we should tell them.”   
The sound of feet pounding announced that everyone had converged in the kitchen. Natasha held up the offending frying pan, congealed and solidified grease gracing the bottom of it, as Tony and Steve walked in. All eyes glanced at them, together looking distinctly ruffled with very bad bed head. Steve was wearing the usual grey tracksuit bottoms that hugged his very nice legs but no shirt and Tony was in boxers and a black tank top.   
“Had a good night did we gentlemen?” asked Clint mock-innocently.   
“An interesting one,” replied Steve in pure innocence as Tony flushed.   
“I’m sorry Nat, I made the mess _apparently_ ,” he said in a soft undertone.   
Her sharp ears caught it, of course they did. She was trained to not miss a thing.   
“You. Of course you did. What do you mean ‘apparently’?”   
“I sleepwalk.”   
The room fell into silence. Then Clint started laughing.   
“That- That makes sense. I mean I find you in the kitchen late at night enough. Half the time you don’t answer me.”   
“How often?”   
“Every few days.”   
Tony looked at Steve, shaking his head.   
“I can’t let you do it.”   
That caught everyone’s attention. Everyone stared at Steve.   
“Can’t let him do what?”   
“He wants Jarvis to wake him up every time I sleepwalk. If it’s that often I really can’t let him.”   
“You hurt yourself last time, what if you do worse again?”   
“You HURT YOURSELF?”   
“It’s nothing.”   
“It was not nothing, show them your hand. Show them your hand now Tony.”   
Nat grabbed his hand, pressure on the wrists, just painful enough to uncurl his fingers. She scowled down at the tight red skin.   
“Jarvis, if Captain Rogers fails to wake up, you will wake up myself, Clint, or Coulson. If all else fails try Bruce or Thor but they are heavy sleepers,” Natasha spoke with an air of finality that told Tony he could not argue.   
Instead he pouted.   
“Well you haven’t recently. You never do when we all fall asleep when watching a film. Nat or I or Coulson would wake up. So you haven’t recently.”   
“Then why now?”   
“Jarvis said it could be sleep deprivation, but I’ve been getting loads more sleep than normal. Or alcohol but I try not to drink as much…”   
His voice trailed off but they all understood.   
“Sir, stress can also be a factor.”   
“Stressed? Me? Jarvis need I remind you genius, billionaire, yadda yadda. What do I have to be stressed about?”   
“Sir, it appears based on your conversations with me you would be most stressed regarding your relationship with-“   
“MUTE,” Tony yelled.   
“Clint, come train with me,” Nat said out of the blue.   
“Now?”   
“Yes now. Thor, Jane told me she was free today.”   
“And I’ve got an experiment running, so I’m going to…”   
And just like that they all left, Coulson not even bothering to invent a reason or make an excuse.   
“Your relationship with?”   
Tony turned to Steve, who had his arms folded across his chest and eyebrows raised almost into his hairline. Tony dragged his hands through his hair. Steve was giving him that look, that completely _Steve_ look that was just so full of _Steve-ness_ that Tony felt compelled to tell the truth. Instead of talking Tony just bit his lip, just shy of drawing blood.   
“Your relationship with me then. If it’s about that kiss then we can just forget it.”   
Steve was looking at him, full of sadness and something close to regret.   
“Your health is more important and if I’m- if what happened is stressing you out then pretend it never happened.”   
“But I don’t want to,” Tony blurted out then in a quiet whisper he added, “I said that out loud didn’t I?”   
Steve looked at Tony, really looked at him. Then a grin spread across his face, slow like dawn and bright as the sun.   
“Yeah you did.” Steve took a step closer, taking Tony’s hand in his. Tony’s eyes got wild and panicked.   
“Tony, what’s wrong?”   
“I must be asleep, or hallucinating. There’s no way, no chance you want… I’m just a man in a suit of armour trying to make up for a life time of mistakes. There’s no way that you…”   
Tony was staring at the floor, his free hand drumming against the arc reactor. Steve reached up, seizing it and steadying the shaking fingers.   
“Tony I like you.”   
Tony’s head shot up and he looked so adorably befuddled.   
“What?”   
“I like you,” Steve said softly, leaning so close he could feel Tony’s breath.   
“You- you do?”   
“Yes, I like you. Do you want me to say it more?”   
Tony’s lips were so close, centimetres away and the temptation was tangible.   
“Yes, every day. I want to hear you say it every single day.”   
“For you Tony I will.”   
At that Tony broke, falling into Steve, kissing needy and desperate. His hands were still shaking, gripping with incredible force, like this would all go if he let go of Steve. Steve returned the kiss with equal passion. Tony scraped his teeth lightly along Steve’s lower lip and the noise Steve made caused even Tony to blush. Tony pulled away, trying to reign himself in, with a smile.   
“You sure about this?”   
Steve smiled dumbly for a second until the words filtered in, hearing the unspoken words. _You sure about me?_   
“Yes Tony, I’m sure. Now shall we go watch Lord of the Rings, I’ve never seen it.”   
“You’ve never seen Lord of the Rings?” asked Tony, as incredulous as last time, “how has no one told you about Lord of the Rings? But Gandalf? But Aragorn? But Samwise-fucking-Gamgee? It’s not in that notebook you use to list everything you need to catch up on? What about Harry Potter? Star Wars? I need to get you caught up on so much.”   
Tony pulled him into the entertainments room, getting all three extended Lord of the Rings films cued and ready before they even made it to the couch.   
“Marathon time.”   
“We’re going running? I thought you wanted me to watch films with you?”   
“Running? Oh no no no, TV marathon. Like watching an entire series or whatever in one go. Basically the opposite of a marathon since you veg out on the couch, usually with popcorn or pizza or some kind of junk food.”   
“As long as I can cuddle up next to you.”   
“You did not just say cuddle, can’t believe I like such a dork.”   
“Says the nerd with a geek culture obsession.”   
“Whatever, Hobbits are cool.”

 

About halfway through Two Towers Tony became a tad disinterested. Who could blame him though? There was a super-soldier _cuddling_ him. It was to be expected, he was rather shocked he managed to focus that long on a film anyway. Not that he really focused, what with his brain being acutely aware that Steve was next to him and holding his hand and all. Tony tried, he really did, to bring his attention back to the film and not on Steve because Steve was enjoying it and he didn’t want to be rude. Instead he just threw Steve’s arm around his shoulder, wrapped his own around Steve’s middle and just lay next to him. Steve wanted to cuddle and Tony found it was actually nice and yes there was surprise in his voice when he thought that. As always Tony fell asleep with Steve going shortly afterwards. Their hands were clasped and Tony was lying across Steve’s chest, an impressive display considering both were still sat upright. Nat and Clint had wandered into the doorway.   
“That’s… That’s new right?”   
“You haven’t been paying attention have you?”   
“You mean they actually _both_ like each other?”   
“Well, yeah.”   
“I thought it was just Stark’s hero worship, looking at Steve like a lovesick puppy. The bet, oh god poor Steve. That was just cruel. And the Cinderella deal? Even then?”   
“To paraphrase Ygritte, you know nothing Clint Barton.”   
“Whatever Nat, I bet the others didn’t know. I bet even Coulson didn’t know.”   
“I knew,” drifted Coulson’s deadpanned voice from down the hall.   
“You knew and you didn’t tell me, but I thought we told each other everything,” replied Clint, mock hurt.   
“For the record Banner also knew.”   
“Did everyone but-“   
“Thor did not.”   
“So me and Thor, _great._ ”   
“Not our fault you are self-involved,” Nat said with a smirk.   
“So are they together or…?”   
“By now, I hope they are. And,” Nat said turning to Coulson, “could we leave this out of the reports to Fury, at least for now. They are both like idiotic deer. They startle easy and will likely run at the first sign of danger. Especially Stark. So leave them be for a while?”   
Coulson sighed, “I wouldn’t but out of morbid curiosity, do I have a choice?”   
“I don’t know, it depends how much you appreciate certain body parts being attached to your body,” replied Nat in an entirely conversational tone, all while examining her nails.   
“I fully appreciate all body parts, appendages, and the like remaining in-tact and on my body. Therefore nothing will be said to Director Fury from me.”   
“Clint?”   
“You’re scary so I am going to agree with Phil on this one, nothing said to anyone outside the tower.”   
“Thank you,” she smiled sweetly.   
She leaned against the doorframe as Coulson placed an arm around Clint’s waist and walked him back to their bedroom.   
“I need to check with Banner, see who won the pool,” she mused in the darkness as she headed for Banner’s lab.   
Tapping lightly on his door she pushed it open. He glanced over the top of his glasses and waved her closer.   
“Not working on anything dangerous, just the growth of plague.”   
“That can be dangerous,” she replied.   
“It’s in the incubator, nothing gets in or out while things are growing in there. Stark designed it.”   
“Then your fine, Stark wouldn’t ever risk your health. His own maybe but not one of us.”   
“You like him. As a friend of course but you seem to really care about him.”   
“I’ve just known him a bit longer than you all, I’ve seen him at his worst, best, and everything in between. And I’ve never seen him as happy as when Steve is in the room. Speaking of, when we all left do you agree that could have easily turned into an argument between them?” “Yeah, did I miss the yelling?” “No, there wasn’t any. They are currently wrapped around each other on the couch.”   
“Oh god, that’s just unsanitary.”   
“Not like that, which is why I’m even more shocked. Stark hasn’t tried anything.”   
“You mean-?”   
“Yeah, I think he’s in this for the long haul. Who won the pool by the way? And who was still playing in the end?”   
“Well Coulson won, no surprises there. Lady Sif dropped out a few weeks back, Darcy was still in but she had last week and New Year. Jane was next week, Thor was, and I quote here, ‘the Midgardian celebration of Love’ which we all assumed to be Valentine’s Day. Agent Hill had mid-July I think, might have been Steve’s birthday, I know Happy definitely had Steve’s birthday, guess he thought Tony would go over the top with his gift. Rhodey had Halloween because apparently that is when Tony gets drunkest and is therefore most likely to confess. Pepper had Christmas. Sam was going to bet but all the dates he wanted were taken,” Bruce said, pondering.   
“I didn’t know they were still in touch.”   
“Yeah, Cap calls in every few days. Sam’s still working down in DC but he's meant to be up for Christmas. Left of the betting, who else was there? Well Spiderman had every Wednesday. Wanda and Pietro both refused to bet but Wanda said if they didn’t hurry up she would make them. Then there was you and me. You had tomorrow right?”   
“Yeah but I don’t mind losing if it’s like this. Oh and by the way, pretend to Clint that Thor didn’t know. He was getting his panties in a twist at being the only one who hadn’t figured it out, I’ve already sent a text to Thor.”   
“No problem. How did Barton not notice though?”   
“I honestly don’t know.”   
“With the amount of money he’s won, Coulson can take some time off.”   
“But he won’t.”   
“No he won’t,” Bruce agreed.   
“Coffee?”   
“Tea,” he countered.   
“Agreed.”   
They both stood and walked into the kitchen, pausing to look in at the tower’s newest couple.   
“And he hasn’t sleepwalked.”


	14. I’m not dating Captain America

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the comments and kudos :) we are about halfway through my load of chapters so i hope you continue to enjoy :)

# Chapter 14 – I’m not dating Captain America

“Tony, this better be important. You messaged a nine-one-one. That’s for apocalypse-style emergencies,” came Pepper’s simultaneously exasperated and amused (it helped to maintain a sense of humour around Tony Stark) tone from the video chat.  
“I fucked up.”  
She sighed and turned to the mini-fridge, pulling out a miniscule bottle of tequila (it also helped to maintain a sense of rationale, alcohol was needed when your ex-boss and ex-boyfriend texted in the early hours of the morning for seemingly no reason).  
“It is two-thirty here Tony.”  
“I mean I really didn’t mean to- wait you mean you aren’t in LA, I thought you were in LA. Either that or I have the time really wrong.”  
She rolled her eyes, Tony finally glancing up to look at the screen. Her hotel room was dimly lit, the only light source from a bedside lamp next to her.  
“You really have the time wrong. Go to bed Tony.”  
“It’s Steve.”  
That caught Pepper’s attention, at least enough to stop her hanging up on him. She eyed Tony up as he shuffled awkwardly under her gaze. He looked a weird combination of happy, yet utterly utterly terrified, with the hint of self-loathing he usually carried amplified slightly.  
“Alright, I’ll bite. What did you do?”  
“Why do you assume I did it?”  
She gave him a look. Correction: she gave him The Look. Capitalised and everything. The one that made him just know she was not in the mood for his usual shit.  
“So did you argue?”  
“No.”  
“Tony, if you don’t tell me what is going on right now I am going to hang up on you.”  
“I kissed him,” he blurted, “or he kissed me. I don’t know. Pepper help me.”  
She looked unsurprised which stunned Tony into silence.  
“ _Finally_ ,” she exclaimed with a roll of her eyes.  
“Finally? What do you mean finally?”  
“Well you two have been neck deep in sexual tension, it was getting painful to watch.”  
“Come on, if Cap had been lusting after me I’m pretty sure I would have noticed.”  
“Tony, you would have been the last one to notice. In fact, I think you might have been. And you couldn’t wait until Christmas could you? Should have known. You made Coulson a rich man.”  
“You were BETTING on us?”  
“Yes. Anyway, how did it happen?”  
She was wide awake now, lying on her front across the bed, chin resting on her folded hands.  
“I don’t know. I- just- what? What am I doing?”  
Pepper watched in mild horror as the man through the camera began hyperventilating. He looked up at her with round eyes, full of vulnerability.  
“Tony, calm down. Breathe for me. In for seven, hold for five, out for nine, c’mon you know this. Now tell me what’s got you so scared?”  
“How can you even ask that? I kissed _Steve_. I can’t do this, he’s perfect and I’m me, I wreck things. I can’t do this.”  
“Tony, you don’t wreck things.”  
“I wrecked us,” he said, his tone weak and breathless, about to hyperventilate again unless Pepper could get him to calm down.  
“You didn’t wreck us, honestly I was amazed at your maturity over the whole thing. We weren’t right for each other, we both realised that, and we are still friends now. I couldn’t have dreamt of more. So you wrecked nothing. And Steve. Pretty sure the serum protects him from being wrecked,” Pepper joked, coaxing a small smile from the panicking mess.  
His breathing was slowly evening out, look of complete fear easing from his eyes.  
“So when’s your first date?”  
Maybe that had been asking for too much, Pepper had thought when looking back on this evening (morning). Tony slumped to the floor, a ball of depression and self-hatred.  
“I never asked him on a date, we aren’t dating, we kissed, I’ve done this all wrong, what do I do? This isn’t how I imagined at all,” He asked in a high speed babble.  
“How did you imagine it?”  
“Well without him liking me back, which he can’t do, seriously. I am a mess of scars and issues and-“  
“Tony, shut up.”  
And he fell silent.  
“He knows all of this, and still likes you. He kissed you back didn’t he?”  
Tony nodded silently.  
“Then he likes you. Just ask him on a date.”  
Tony nodded again, thoughtfully this time.  
“But where do we go, what do we do?”  
Pepper sighed and glanced at her clock. Just gone three. It was the early hours of the morning and she had a meeting at eleven and here she was giving out dating advice to the smoother-than-silk playboy that is Tony Stark.  
“Nothing too extravagant, maybe a simple dinner. _Simple_ dinner. Don’t take him to any of the places you schmooze board members when the stocks drop. Maybe go to the theatre first. Movies are too cliché so I am assuming you already hate that idea. Or take him to an art gallery, you keep saying how much he likes art.”  
Tony paused again, considering what Pepper had said.  
“That… that could work… and Pepper. Thank you. Sorry for waking you, I’ll let you sleep now.”  
The call ended and he began pacing the room, trying to figure out how best to ask Steve.

 

He had a plan. That was all he needed. Tickets to a new art gallery showing weighed heavily in his pocket, the doubtful thoughts in his head going mental.  
_What if you misread the signals?  
He kissed back though.  
Maybe he just got caught up in the moment.  
Didn’t he say he was sure about this?  
Maybe you misheard.  
You definitely misheard.  
But what if you didn’t.  
What if he wants this too? Are you really going to pass up this chance because you are scared?  
_ And then his mind started making chicken noises at him. And at that point he decided to definitely ask Steve, if only to stop the ridiculous clucking. Well not if only, he wanted this more than he wanted anything. Only problem was he couldn’t find Steve anywhere. Checking the gym he found everyone else. As he stepped over the threshold, all eyes jumped to him, all faces with looks of glee.  
“So. Steve,” Clint smirked.  
“No, I’m Tony. I think Natasha gave you one too many hits to the head this time round.”  
“Nah, it was Thor. Nat’s teaching Banner self-defence. And you know what I mean. _You and Steve_.”  
Time to keep up firm denial. After all, it wasn’t anything, there was no ‘Him and Steve’. ‘ _Yet’_ cried the hopeful voice inside him.  
“I have no idea what you mean.”  
“C’mon, me and Nat saw you cuddled up on the couch.”  
“We just fell asleep watching a film.”  
“Suuuure,” Clint said, tone disbelieving, “you saluted his flagpole yet?”  
“Clint,” Nat hissed, tone a low warning.  
“No, I haven’t ‘saluted his flagpole’ you dirty minded pigeon.”  
“Though not for lack of trying amirite?”  
“Clint,” Nat was pinching his arm hard.  
“I mean, you’ve kissed him now yeah?”  
Tony could feel his cheeks flush, a memory of soft lips against his coming front and centre to his mind’s eye.  
“Oh my god you did!”  
“Clint shut up now,” Natasha threatened.  
“But it’s so adorable that Tony’s dating Captain America.”  
“I’M NOT DATING CAPTAIN AMERICA!” Tony snapped.  
All eyes were on him for a very long few seconds, then every eye settled to a spot over his shoulder. Tony blanched. He turned on the spot, and met with a white shirted muscle-y chest. He shoved past, walking calmly to the elevator. Behind him he heard a yelp and a yell of ‘what the hell is wrong with you?’. “Jarvis, workshop.”

 

Steve stood frozen behind Tony, seeing the mounting anger and embarrassment tensing his shoulders. His hands were balled into fists by his side and he was shaking. Then he was yelling.  
“I’M NOT DATING CAPTAIN AMERICA!”  
And then he fled, Steve staring after him. He rounded on the inhabitants of the room, Natasha already reprimanding Clint with a slap around the head.  
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she yelled at him.  
“What? What did I do?”  
“Why did you do that?”  
“DO WHAT?”  
“It’s like you were prodding a sleeping Tiger.”  
Steve silently listened to them argue, trying to make sense of what happened. He couldn’t so he turned to the only people who could.  
“Bruce, Nat, what just happened?”  
“Clint decided it would be a great idea to mock Tony.”  
“I wasn’t mocking, I was genuinely curious. Oh god, he didn’t think I was mocking did he? I am genuinely happy for him.”  
“So essentially Clint frightened Tony with his incessant questioning and Tony bolted. He is probably beating himself up about it, having screamed it in front of you.”  
“Yeah. He technically wasn’t wrong. We aren’t _dating_ seeing as how we haven’t been on a date yet. I’ve got to go find him.”  
“You do that Cap, we’ll make sure Barton never opens his mouth again.”  
Natasha’s eyes flashed dangerously, Thor was twirling his hammer looking altogether rather displeased, Banner was his usual zen, if casting a few worried looks to the door Tony had fled.  
“There will be no need for that, we need an archer.”  
“Nah, I have a lovely girl on speed dial. Kate is a perfect replacement.”  
“You can’t just replace all this,” Clint said, motioning his hands over his body.  
“I can and will if you don’t learn to keep your mouth shut.”  
“All right, just make sure it can’t be traced back to the Avengers,” Steve called over his shoulder as he made to find Tony.  
“Done,” Natasha agreed over Clint’s terrified yell of “STEVE. NO C’MON, I’M SORRY. STEVE!”

 

What had he been thinking? He wasn’t wrong though. He wasn’t dating Captain America. He didn’t want to date Captain America, perfect poster boy of World War Two. No he didn’t want that. He wanted to date _Steve_. Steve, with his helping ladies cross the street and his glances at the ceiling when he spoke to Jarvis and his stubbornness (pot, kettle much) and his illiteracy in technology and his secretly dirty sense of humour and his tuneless whistling and- actually maybe he should stop there. Otherwise this could go on all day. He didn’t want to date the peak of perfection that his dad always compared him to, he wanted to date the perfectly imperfect, the fallible, and the ever so sweet Steven Grant Rogers. And he had just fucked up his chance. Stupid, Stupid, Stupid! So deep into his self-recriminations was he that he failed to hear both the workshop door and Jarvis announce the arrival of the Super Soldier. A sound of someone clearing his throat caused him to jump out of his skin. He turned to see Steve in all his gorgeous glory, biting on his lip in a clear effort not to laugh. Tony smiled sadly.  
“Go on, you can laugh.”  
Though at the wan smile, all humour dropped off Steve’s face. He watched the smaller man shuffle awkwardly, fingers clutching at a screwdriver that was constantly in motion, tapping at the workbench next to Tony.  
“What brings you down here Cap? Need a new anything? I can help with that, though I am busy busy busy, gotta fix Clint’s bow, the idiot broke it and there’s also Nat’s weaponry to configure, plus testing on the Other Guy’s stuff, plus Banner wanted new lab equipment but the stuff on the market sucks and we only get the best at the Tower so now I gotta upgrade his lab equipment and so if you just tell me what you want and leave me to work that would be great.”  
Steve frowned at the babbling brunet in front of him, who hadn’t met his eyes once. Tony turned his back to Steve and began working on a new crossbow for Clint, screwdriver still tapping against the desk at high speed. Steve sighed at the genius, frustration and adoration in equal measure. Tony was pulling off his well-practised avoidance technique. He had no idea what to do. But, apparently, his body did. He stepped into Tony’s space, chest pressing against his back and hands rubbing up and down Tony’s arms. Tony froze beneath his fingers, breathing coming in heavy huffs. Steve leaned down and whispered into Tony’s ear.  
“What I want is to take you out to dinner tonight, where we get to know each other better after some potentially awkward small talk,” Tony chuckled a little at that but Steve just continued, “after which I would walk you to your door, kiss you goodnight, and ask when we could do this again. Hopefully receiving a positive answer and hopefully that answer is very soon.”  
Tony spun on the spot to face Steve, hands clutching at the fabric at Steve’s waist.  
“I still don’t want to date Captain America.”  
Steve’s face fell, anxious and uneasy and bright red embarrassed. Tony caught sight of it before Steve could pull away and hastened to correct himself.  
“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, oh god how do I explain this. I want to date _Steve_ not Captain America. I want you, not the suit, although the suit is very nice and it does wondrous things to your-“  
Steve smiled understandingly as he let Tony babble away. He wanted the same, _Tony,_ not _Tony Stark,_ or _Iron Man_. Just Tony, plain and simple. Tony was still babbling.  
“-I don’t want you to think that I want this just because you are _Captain America_ because you are both more and less than that and oh no that sounded wrong I mean, the media puts you on this pedestal and you aren’t everything they say you are and yet you are so much more and I should really stop talking, but-“  
Steve finally burst out laughing, head resting on Tony’s shoulder.  
“Hey, I thought you were mad, is my panic so funny to you?” Tony quizzed indignantly.  
Steve shook his head, trying to reign in the laughter.  
“No,” he finally managed to choke out, “not at all but I want you for all the same reasons. Not Iron Man or Mr Stark. Just Tony, as rude and impossible and brilliant as you are.”  
Tony looked stunned, and that hurt a little. That this amazing man could be so confused that someone wants him just the way he is. No masks, no tactics, no secret motives. Steve smiled into Tony’s shoulder, before raising his head to stare into warm brown eyes.  
“So… dinner?” Steve asked, hesitation gone from his voice completely.  
“How about dinner and a show?” Tony fished in his pockets drawing out two tickets.  
He handed them to Steve who grinned. Tickets to the art showing he had wanted to attend from the moment he first heard about it. And Tony had got them tickets for its unveiling. Both incredibly sweet and insanely generous.  
“Dinner and a show it is. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

 

Meltdown, a meltdown was imminent. He needed help. What should he wear? What should he do? What should he talk about? He couldn’t call Pepper again, hearing Tony whine about Steve once in a day might be her limit. Rhodey, he’d call Rhodey.  
“RHODEY HELP ME.”  
“Christ Tony, what’s up?”  
“What do I wear?”  
Silence. Utter silence came from his phone. Until finally-  
“Jesus, I thought you were dying,” came the muttered undertone followed by, “Clothes Tony. Regular People wear clothes. Why are you calling me to discuss your wardrobe?”  
“I have a date.”  
“You never called me to discuss your fashion choices, even if you should have. You have made a lot of questionable wardrobe choices in the past. Like the leather shirt during college, what were you thinking with that one?”  
“I need help.”  
“If your sanity tells you that was a good fashion choice, you definitely do. Pay a therapist.”  
“Rhodey, wait wait. It’s Steve.”  
“What’s Steve?”  
“I have a date.”  
“You. Have a date. With Steve… _Finally_.”  
“Why is that everyone’s reaction?”  
“Because the eye-fucking was getting boring. Who won the pool?”  
“Coulson, and apparently no one has been surprised by this.”  
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. So I am guessing that since he asked you out you have been staring at your wardrobe for the past, I don’t know, hour?”  
“Two,” Tony admitted reluctantly.  
“Damn.”  
“Yeah.”  
“I’ll be right over.”  
Tony cracked a smile, foot tapping the door of his wardrobe where he was leaning.  
“Thanks Rhodey.”

 

As Rhodey was flying over, he called Pepper.  
“Miss Potts.”  
“Rhodey, how are you?” Pepper replied, her voice warm.  
“Brilliant, I just got some interesting news.”  
“Are they finally going on a date?”  
“Yup, I think one of us needs to give him _the talk_.”  
“Oh definitely. Is Tony freaking out?”  
“Yeah, wardrobe mostly. Oh wait hold on, just got a text. He wants to know if he should buy something.”  
“He didn’t on our first date,” Pepper pouted, but her tone suggested hidden mirth.  
“So if he does, something small. Miniscule by Tony’s standards, otherwise small means Steve is getting a new car.”  
“So I take it you are calling for wardrobe advice.”  
“Yeah, you normally deal with his wardrobe right?”  
“Used to,” she corrects him, “and yes, he isn’t very good at it. I mean did you see how he dressed during the 90’s.”  
“It was a wild time.”  
“That it was. Get him in a nice shirt, and his leather jacket, he likes the oversized black one, pair it with a skinny black tie. Thanks Colonel. And I’ll speak to _him_ later.”  
“Rather you than me, that’s going to be awkward.”  
“It will but you have to deal with a panicking Tony.”  
“Crap, you’re right, want to swap?”  
“Too late,” she sing-songed at him.  
“Thanks Pepper.”  
“You’re welcome, speak to you later. Call me if you have any problems.”  
“Will do, I’ll let you know how it goes.”  
The call ended and he zoomed over to the Avengers Tower.

 

Upon entering, Rhodey headed immediately to the workshop. He found Tony surrounded by a new recursive bow, a finished crossbow, a compact mirror computer, tiny microphones hidden inside various objects including hairclips and clutch bags. Rhodey picked up a plain black clutch bag with a questioning look.  
“For Natasha. They might check for wires but no one checks a lady’s bag.”  
“Ah, now do explain to me why you are down here getting covered in oil and grime instead of upstairs panicking over your clothes.”  
Tony ran his oil covered hands through his hair, getting streaks of black across his forehead and causing strands of hair to stick up haphazardly. His hand grabbed a small box of the table, trying to hide it behind his back. Rhodey saw anyway and grinned.  
“Okay so since you have finished making Steve whatever you wanted to make him, go upstairs and shower.”  
Tony still looked reluctant. Rhodey just caught him in a headlock and dragged him into the elevator.  
“Jarvis, Tony’s floor.”  
The elevator zoomed up, and Rhodey finally released Tony when they entered his room. Tony was flitting backwards and forwards from the wardrobe and his chest of drawers, pulling out shirt after shirt, ties wrapped around his neck, and jackets discarded to the floor. Rhodey, laughing the entire time, had finally taken pity and pushed Tony into the bathroom, pulling off the seven ties he was wearing.  
“Shower, wash off the oil. I will pick you something to wear.”  
“Oh god no Rhodey, it’s not like you have the best fashion taste either.”  
“Okay I’ll get Pepper to help.”  
Tony looked thoughtful for a moment before wandering into the bathroom and shutting the door. Pepper’s advice it was then. After selecting five different choices, Rhodey was finally happy with what he and Pepper provided. His black Sabbath top, with a long sleeved white undershirt and dark blue jeans. A simple white dress shirt, and blue jeans. Black jeans, a pale blue dress shirt, and a black sports jacket. A hot rod red long sleeved top and beige slacks. And finally, under Pepper’s guidance, white dress shirt, black tie, black trousers, and the humorously large leather jacket to stop it looking overly formal. Rhodey grinned as he heard Tony talk in the shower, most likely to Jarvis. The man never shut up. After a good twenty minutes, Tony left the bathroom, hair dripping and black towel wrapped around his waist.  
“So clothes.”  
“Rare that people want to put me in clothes, usually they want to get me out of them,” Tony grinned at him.  
“I would feel more comfortable if you put on underwear.”  
“Aint nothing you haven’t seen before.”  
“But it is something I would rather not see again. Throughout MIT was enough. Now put on your damn underwear.”  
Tony was then standing in nothing but underwear, towel abandoned on the floor. He began pacing up and down Rhodey’s options, glaring at them all.  
“None are right.”  
He chucked the Black Sabbath outfit and the Hot Rod red outfit at Rhodey, muttering.  
“Too casual.”  
The white dress shirt and blue jeans were discarded soon after.  
“Too glowy.”  
Rhodey frowned, trying to figure out what Tony meant until he noticed Tony’s hand. It was resting on top of the Arc, covering the glow from view. Always a source of insecurity for Tony, something he always viewed as his biggest flaw.  
“How about this one?”  
Rhodey asked, holding out the blue shirted ensemble. Tony dismissed it with a wave of his hand.  
“Well you only have one left.”  
Tony looked at it, soft smile when he really looked at the leather jacket.  
“Pepper picked this out didn’t she?”  
“What makes you think I didn’t?”  
Tony just fixed him with a look, before pulling on the black trousers. Rhodey grinned back at him, brandishing a comb.  
“Oh no, no no no. Get away from me.”  
“Have you seen your hair?”  
“I can do it myself, give me the comb.”  
Tony held out his hand, palm flat and eyes demanding. Rhodey gave up the comb and grinned as Tony tried to tame his tangled locks. When the unruly mess was finally turned (somewhat) presentable, Rhodey gave him a thumbs up and glanced at the box Tony was fiddling with.  
“So, what did you make him?”  
“Make him, I didn’t make him anything, I don’t know what you are on about.”  
“You kind of suck at lying, I know you too well by now,” Rhodey replied, eyebrow arched.  
Tony heaved a sigh, “okay fine, but I don’t know if I am going to give it to him. It’s stupid, he won’t want it. I’m just going to bin it.”  
“You put it in that bin and I will-“  
“You’ll what?”  
“I’ll get it out and give it to Steve,” Rhodey smirked.  
“Fine, fine, I’ll show it to you, nosey nelly.”  
Tony fingered the box for a few moments, before pulling open the lid. Inside, delicately set into the box, were a set of cufflinks and a matching tie pin. The cufflinks were gorgeous, clearly one of Tony’s better pieces of work (not that he ever had a _bad_ creation).  
“Tony, they are… wow. How long did this take you?” Rhodey breathed.  
“Not long.”  
“How long is not long?”  
Tony mumbled something inaudible.  
“Oh sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Can you speak louder?”  
“I said only,” then Tony broke off mumbling again.  
“I am going to assume it was longer than an hour”  
Tony nodded.  
“Longer than two hours?”  
Tony nodded.  
“Longer than a five hours?” Tony nodded.  
“Alright how long?”  
“Ten hours,” Tony replied looking sheepish.  
“Ten hours? That’s fast, even by your standards. Jesus Tony, how long have you been planning these?”  
“Not long, they were going to be Steve’s birthday present but I can make something else.”  
“You’ve only known about this date for less than a day. I am assuming you spent all that time on them. Why spend all that time?”  
“Reasons.”  
“Alright, fine, your secret. But you only have 10 minutes until the date,” Rhodey grinned.  
“You son of a bitch, you’ve been distracting me,” Tony said with a laugh.  
“Don’t talk about my mother that way,” Rhodey replied in kind.  
“Thank you,” Tony whispered.  
Rhodey heard anyway and grinned.

 

Pepper was pacing in front of him, sighing every so often.  
“Uh, ma’am-“  
“Pepper.”  
“-Pepper. Is there something I can help you with? You seem…”  
Steve lets his words trail off as Pepper finally rounded on him, face determined but smile soft.  
“I care about Tony a lot. And you want to date him.”  
Steve looked puzzled. He waited to see where this was going.  
“Do you fully understand what you are getting into?”  
Steve blinked.  
“I’ve lived with Tony for three years, I am pretty sure I know what he’s like,” Steve grinned.  
“Not what I mean,” Pepper said seriously, “have you thought about the Press?”  
“What about the Press?”  
“Have you even considered what will happen if and when this goes public?”  
“Tony has faced the press before, as have I, whatever happens, it won’t scare me away.”  
Pepper nodded, looking mildly impressed.  
“And what about the team?”  
“They have all been incredibly supportive, and I feel both of us are mature enough to not let this interfere with team activities.”  
Pepper snorted indelicately at Team Activities (so that’s what they called saving the world). However Pepper maintained her professionalism.  
“In the worst case scenario, have you considered how the two of you would maintain a working relationship should you break up?”  
“All due respect Miss Potts but I do not consider that the worst case scenario. In our line of work there are much worse things than breaking up with the man I care about. Like one or both of us not coming home. And as I said, we are both mature enough to handle whatever happens.”  
Pepper looked even more impressed. She stopped pacing in front of him and watched as he shuffled nervously on the bar stool. The bouquet of sunflowers lay by his side. Pepper had eyed it up the moment she set foot in the room. She was looking at it again now, her smile widening.  
“Okay, you pass.”  
Steve heaved a sigh of relief, letting his shoulders slump and a grin break across his face. He made to stand up, walking over to Tony’s room.  
“Oh Steve, one more thing.”  
Steve paused and turned around to Pepper, who was standing uncomfortably close. Her shark-like smile made Steve feel like he was being examined. He took a step back, only to find himself backed against a wall.  
“He’s had some not so good relationships, so if you hurt him, I _will_ hurt you.”  
Steve swallowed and nodded.  
“Understood, I don’t intend to hurt him ma’am.”  
“Pepper, please.”  
Pepper smiled, sweet now. She patted his cheek and walked off down the corridor. Rhodey slipped out of Tony’s room, then turned on Steve.  
“She gave you the talk huh?”  
Steve nodded silently, still staring after the red-head.  
“Don’t let her make you nervous. We both just care about Tony a lot and he deserves some happiness. Well, you both do.”  
“You both really care about him.”  
Rhodey smiled sadly.  
“We are the closest to family he has. Or had. He has you guys now too. Someone’s got to watch out for him…”  
Steve smiled at Rhodey, offering his hand out to shake.  
“Thank you Colonel. I’ll look after him.”  
Rhodey took his hand firmly, “I don’t doubt that Captain. Have a nice night,” Rhodey released his hand, and waved his goodbyes, muttering as he left, “God it’s like me and Pepper are his parents. Can’t believe I had to give the ‘look after my son’ talk to Captain America. That is just ridiculous.”  
Steve smiled after him and picked up the flowers from the breakfast bar. He spun around as a door clicked open. Tony was staring at him from the doorway, eyes wide and a look of wonder on his face.  
“You look…”  
Tony trailed off, gawking at Steve in his tight white tank top and blue sports jacket and his dark blue jeans. Jeans that did wondrous things to Steve’s ass. Steve fumbled a little and held out the flowers for Tony. Tony took them, blushing deep scarlet.  
“No one’s ever… are these irises in the sunflowers? Sunflowers are my fav- they’re gorgeous. I got you something too.”  
Tony placed the flowers into an awaiting vase (thank you Pepper). He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box. He handed it over, placing it hesitantly in Steve’s palm. With a flick of his finger, Steve opened the box, held captivated by what awaited him inside. Two gleaming cufflinks, the Captain America shield set into them and a matching tie pin.  
“It’s stupid, actually give it back,” Tony lunged for the box, Steve holding it just out of reach above his head.  
“No way, it’s mine now,” Steve grinned at the smaller man, who was jumping to try and reach the box, “I love them Tony.”  
“It’s nothing. If you press and hold the star on the cufflinks for five seconds it sends out a distress signal. Don’t worry, the star is coded to your DNA so it can’t be accidentally pressed by someone else. The tie pin can be altered into a comms unit and will give you access to Jarvis.”  
“You mean this is to keep me safe?”  
“Of course. Everything I make the team is to keep them safe. They’re a gold titanium alloy, near indestructible. Same as the suit. I had to minimize the circuitry and battery so once activated the signal will only last about twelve hours but it will be fed directly to Jarvis so it shouldn’t take twelve hours to find you anyway.”  
Steve leaned down and kissed Tony softly on the lips, feeling Tony smile against him. Steve slipped his hand into Tony’s.  
“So shall we go?”

 

Tony pulled up in a silver convertible, having followed Steve’s directions to the tucked away restaurant hidden behind imposing buildings.  
“Glad it’s still here, Isabelle’s does the best pizza.”  
“You used to come here?”  
“Yeah, as a kid. Family run. Great place.”  
They both pulled themselves out of the car, Steve having gotten out first to open Tony’s door for him.  
“You dork,” he said with a grin.  
They had only made it to the entrance of the restaurant when both of their phones buzzed. Casting apologetic looks at each other, they both pulled their phones out to turn them off.  
“Did you get-?”  
“Yeah, downtown.”  
“Your suit and shield is in the car. Hop in, my suit’s on its way, this’ll be quicker. Rain Check?”  
“Definitely. And you didn’t pack the suitcase?”  
“Damaged, Jarvis is sending the Mark 42.”  
They turned on their heel and hopped into the car. Tony sped off with Steve who began pulling on and off clothing until he was dressed in the suit.  
“Really hard to concentrate on the road when I have a super soldier stripping next to me.”  
They raced through the city, until they finally hit a wall of traffic.  
“We must be close, I’ll go on foot. You wait here for the suit.”  
“I’m coming with you.”  
“No you are waiting here for the suit.”  
Steve made to jump out the car. Tony grabbed him by the collar pulling him down for a soul-stealing kiss. For a moment Steve forgot where he was and what was happening. There was only him and Tony. He was brought back to reality there was a flash of light. Tony pulled away, seemingly unaware of the bright light that caused dots in Steve’s vision.  
“Like hell am I staying here. I am not some kid who doesn’t know what he’s doing. Screw this, I am coming with you.”

 

AIM. What is it with AIM and messing up Tony’s plans? Always ruining his movie night, and now they want to ruin his dates too. And they created a giant armoured tortoise. Perfect, just perfect. No weaponry was penetrating the thing. Even the Hulk wasn’t able to smash through its shell. Tony could see the creature rounding on Steve, jaws snapping with genetically enhanced sharp teeth. It was closing on Steve and Natasha, forcing them to fall back. They were fast being backed into a concrete wall, stuck down a dead end. An idea struck Tony at that stage.  
“Hey I think I know how to beat this thing.”  
“What do you propose Man of Iron?”  
“Jarvis knows.”  
“The tale of Jonah sir?” Jarvis said, tone resigned  
“You know it.”  
Clint groaned in disgust, “oh god, Stark. No way in hell. Gross."  
“ _Tony_ ,” came Natasha’s warning tone.  
Tony grinned, smirk hidden by the faceplate.  
“I’ve done this before.”  
“Wait what? When?”  
“Space whale.”  
“The Chitauri? You blew up a Chitauri Leviathan?”  
“Yeah, sent me through a bus shelter but hopefully I won’t end up with a concussion this time.”  
“This time? No, no, no, Tony don’t you dare. Don’t. DON’T- OH MY GOD TONY.”  
Steve was screaming over comms, only half hearing his begging and pleas as they fell on deaf ears. He watched in horror as red and gold flew straight into the tortoise’s mouth. Cheerful whistling was the only thing that kept Steve calm. Suddenly the whistling stopped and the tortoise blew apart, firing shell across the street like shrapnel. Steve crouched, tucking himself and Natasha behind his shield. Thor was striking away large pieces with Mjolnir. Clint was luckily out of range, otherwise - knowing his medical history – he would have been the first one hit. Although pieces were hitting the Hulk, nothing seemed to be damaging him. A streak of red and gold blew past after the next blast and slammed hard into a concrete wall. A final explosion went off sending the final fragments of shell in all directions. Silence reigned over the comms, everyone waiting for the dust to settle.  
“Status report,” Steve demanded.  
“Aye, all clear.”  
“Fine up here Cap.”  
“SMASHED?”  
“I’m good Steve, thanks for the cover.”  
“Iron Man?”  
Silence.  
“Iron Man, status report,” Steve ordered, tone edging on panic, “Tony,” his voice small now.  
Still radio silence. Steve set off at a run, straight towards where Tony had crash landed. Suddenly the radio crackled back into life.  
“-cations array is… is damaged… Jarvis, get it back on-...online.”  
“Already online sir.”  
“Hey… great… Cap… I’m, I’m fine,” Tony said, breathing heavily over comms.  
Steve was still running, a full out sprint over the dead carcass of the tortoise. Everyone else was following, but were no match for his serum enhanced speed. Tony was slumped against the wall he crashed against and, even from the distance he was at, Steve could see something was wrong. Finally reaching the armour, he forced Tony to sit down. Tony’s head was weaving, only noticeable from the slight waving of the armour.  
“Lift the face plate, Tony.”  
It flicked up, revealing a smiling, deathly pale Tony.  
“Hell of a first date, eh Cap?”  
Steve placed his hand on Tony’s metal chest, feeling the warmth beneath his fingers. Warmth? Steve’s hand came away stained in red. He traced the trail of blood up to a hole in the armour in the left shoulder.  
“Jarvis, release the suit.”  
“Of course Captain.”  
“Steve, calm down. I’m fine.”  
The suit seals released, Tony immediately getting to his feet. A shard of tortoise shell had pierced through the leather jacket, the white dress shirt underneath soaked with blood. Steve stood with him, grabbing his arm to keep Tony steady. Tony shrugged him off once the team came into view. Clint strode straight up and hugged him, pulling a groan from Tony.  
“Oh god Tony, you dumb fuck.”  
“I’m fine by the way.”  
“TONY NEED BANNER?”  
“Yes Hulk, I think Tony needs Banner,” Natasha said gently.  
“I’m fine, don’t force him to- oh fine.”  
The Other Guy dehulked, Banner immediately taking over. They all crowded him, Banner tugging at the leather jacket, still wrapped around Tony’s shoulders. Tony just pulled it closer.  
“I’m fine, I’m not going to medical,” Tony protested, his voice weak.  
Ignoring him, the team began shuffling him towards the waiting mobile medical unit. Tony was stumbling as he picked his way over mangled tortoise body parts. He began tugging at Steve’s arm with urgency.  
“Okay, not fine. Steve, I think I’m gonna-“  
Tony dropped like a stone, five pairs of arms catching him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve’s Outfit: http://www.gq.com/images/style/2011/07/chris-evans/chris-evans01-cover_300x430.jpg  
> Tony’s Outfit: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/3c/50/5e/3c505ec4b2a530e5ae608bdfb8ea3662.jpg  
> The Flowers: https://www.ftdimg.com/pics/products/FK391_330x370.jpg  
> The Kiss: http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2012/159/9/1/captony_by_sk_manips-d52s7xl.jpg


	15. Press, Paparazzi, and Not-So-Subtle Pictures

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, trying to sort out (and hopefully not ruin) my life and future. Job hunting is more stressful than I anticipated.

# Chapter 15 - Press, Paparazzi, and Not-So-Subtle Pictures

He awoke again in a mobile medical unit, with a sluggish head and surrounded by five furious friends.  
“You are incredibly lucky you aren’t dead,” Banner said, looking up from a flip chart.  
“I knew the risks,” Tony slurred, keeping his eyes closed against the harsh light.  
Everything seemed much too bright, noises far too loud, and all he could smell was metal and blood. Clint finally cracked a smile at Tony’s response, audible in his voice.  
“Did you calculate Steve into that?”  
Tony looked up into pale blue, anger filled eyes. Before he could say a word, his mouth was made rather busy with the plump lips of a super soldier. It took a minute for Steve to pull away. Then he was back to glaring at the brunet.  
“You, Tony, are an idiot. You had a two inch piece of shell buried in your shoulder.”  
Tony shrugged. He was too busy trying not to panic over the idea of more shrapnel to do much else. Tony’s heart monitor suddenly beeped frantically, doctors bustling about him, pushing the Avengers to the side.  
“BP’s dropping.”  
“He’s still bleeding. Remove the bandages. We need to stitch up the wound.”  
“He won’t keep still, we need to hold him down.”  
“Sedate him.”  
“We might have to do a blood transfusion.”  
Tony was clearly fighting to stay awake, struggling against the hands holding him down, eyes glazed from sedation. His hand lacking the IV was reaching out frantically into thin air, trying to grab at something. Bruce took his hand and squeezed, causing Tony to settle a little. A cannula was inserted, causing Tony to begin to panic again.  
“Shush Tony, just going to get you to a hospital. You’ve lost a lot blood. It’s okay, we’ll stay with you.”  
Tony nodded and closed his eyes, finally stopping his struggle against the doctors. The rest followed to the hospital. Without Tony struggling, the doctors were able to stabilize him and fix the injury. A blood transfusion and a lot of pain killers later, Tony woke up, warm and safe in a hospital bed. He tried to sit up but gentle hands pushed him back down.  
“Woah, woah, careful or you’ll pop your stitches,” Bruce admonished.  
Tony blinked up at him, brain clearing of its drug addled haze.  
“How long have I been here?”  
“Not long, only six hours. They’ll let you go in another two.”  
“And Cap?”  
“Oh Cap is very mad,” replied Steve from the doorway of the bathroom, “but I am far more glad that you are okay. I’ve got a rain check to cash after all.”  
Tony smiled weakly. Banner made himself scarce, aiming to inform the rest of the worried team about Tony’s prognosis.  
“So you want another date?”  
“Well the next one can’t be any worse,” Steve said with a slight smile, “hopefully no hospital next time.”  
“Sorry we missed the art show.”  
Tony threw his arm over his eyes, blocking out the harsh light. Steve took his hand and brought the arm back down. Steve flicked off the overhead lights with a remote and turned on the bedside lamp, throwing the room into a warm orange glow.  
“It’s okay, there are other nights. I meant what I said. I’m just glad you are okay.”  
Steve leaned down and kissed Tony softly, the other man groaning. Steve pulled away immediately.  
“Oh god Tony, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”  
Tony just made grabby hands at Steve and pulled him back.  
“It was a good groan, come back.”  
Instead, Steve just sat on the edge of the bed and picked up Tony’s hand.  
“I think going slow might be best for you right now,” Steve said with a smile.  
Tony rolled his eyes but agreed as he shifted, due to a flinch and a surge of pain.  
“Yeah, slow. Slow sounds good. Might be nice for a change,” he capitulated.  
Tony closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep. He shifted, sliding down the bed a little and eventually settling with his head on Steve’s bicep.  
“How very domestic.”  
Steve almost jolted, Natasha appearing out of seemingly nowhere.  
“Where did you come from?”  
She grinned at him. She looked tired, eye make-up smudged.  
“The corridor. You seem to be getting serious pretty quickly.”  
“We’ve known each other so long now, it would be hard not to. Plus in our line of work we have to make every moment count. Today kind of proved that. We need to go slower. Slow might be better for us. Get to know each other better.”  
“Right,” Natasha said, drawing out the vowel, “and how long are you going to use that as your excuse?”  
“What?”  
“Super spy, I’m kinda good at reading people. And you, Steve Rogers, are lying to me. That isn’t why you are getting serious so fast. Why either of you are getting serious so fast. And the same reason is why you want to slow it down. Because that thought scares you just a bit doesn't it? It’s just us, you can admit it to me.”  
Steve smiled at her.  
“I can’t. He’s the first person I want to hear it.”  
“Alright, I’ll settle for that,” Natasha smirked at him, “it might take longer for him y’know.”  
“I know. And I understand why. Or at least some of it.”  
“Do you also know Banner lied to Tony? About when he could go home.”  
“Yeah, he can leave now. Doctor Banner just wanted him to get more rest.”  
Suddenly the door was flung open, crashing against the wall and jerking Tony awake.  
“Hunah wha?”  
Pepper strode in, tablet in hands.  
“Have you seen the news?”  
Steve frowned and shook his head, Pepper snatching the TV remote and turning on the TV mounted in the corner on the wall. Tony was awake in record time, staring in horror as the news lit up the screen. There was a picture set on the right hand side of the screen, the soul stealing kiss captured for the world to see.  
“Notorious playboy Tony Stark seems to have found his new flame amongst his teammates. Caught on the way to defending the streets of New York against another out-of-control animal attack, we see Tony getting overly friendly with the All-America Hero-“  
Pepper flicked channels.  
“Many people are saying this is a simple publicity stunt, used to bolster the reputation of Stark Industries, showing support for the gay community. It’s done anything but, leading to outcry from the public. SI stock has plummeted, and the gay community is in outrage. Here we have Dave and his partner, Chris, speaking about this latest propaganda stunt.”  
“Well it’s ridiculous. Faking being gay, who does that? It is offensive and rude to even suggest that. I personally feel that Mr Stark would never fa-,” the interview cut out suddenly, switching back to the fresh faced female presenter, “many people see Mr Stark as being a non-stop party boy, but it seems he may play for both teams. The billionaire is getting rather greedy.”  
New channel.  
“-All those women, talk about over-compensating-“  
Pepper shut off the channel, switching to the next one.  
“There is even talk of it being non-consensual, that he forced himself on Captain America. The Public are enraged that the playboy would try to taint an American Icon.”  
Tony stood suddenly, ripping the IV from his arm. He grabbed at the clothes clutched in Pepper’s arms and forced them on, dragging a sweater over his head. Pepper changed channel yet again.  
“Latest developments suggest that the so-called Avengers are just part of Tony Stark’s latest harem-“  
New channel.  
“And when this inevitably goes down in flames, will we be able to count on Iron Man and Captain America to protect us?”  
New channel.  
“Can Captain America truly protect us if he can’t even uphold the American Values?”  
Tony grabbed the remote from Pepper’s hand and threw it through the screen. The glass shattered and shards fell to the floor. Tony stormed out, Pepper trailing behind him. They could hear angry yells about ‘How many points?’ and ‘Have we released a press statement?’ and ‘How much hate mail already?’ that followed Tony out of the room. Steve turned to Natasha with a look of fear. “What just happened?” “Welcome to 21st Century media, Captain,” Natasha said with a sigh, “I think you’ll need to follow him.” Steve got up and left.

 

He didn’t manage to catch up with Tony until he made it back at the tower. Tony was pacing up and down the Entertainments Room, stepping on and over furniture. He was having a very heated discussion over the phone.  
“I don’t care what the press say, it is my- our personal lives and we can choose how public I or my partner wish to make it. The press can demand all they want- yeah. Yeah I get that… Conference Pepper in… Hey Pep, they want a statement but I haven’t even had a chance to speak to Steve yet… What _exactly_ do you mean by that, Jen? Yes, yes. I know. Fine. Okay shut up a minute… no not you Pepper… yes I know I shouldn’t speak to her like that but trying times right now okay…Can I at least talk to Steve before you draft up my press release? Well I need his opinion too… Look, come up in an hour, just let me call Steve… No I am not conferencing him in Jen, you may be the best at what you do but the nation thinks I am sullying the good name of Captain America, I doubt even you could salvage him from my reputation… Yes, yes, just let me call Steve… _Thank you_. See you in an hour Pepper.”  
And like that Tony hung up, fumbling with the phone. Steve’s phone rang shrilly in his pocket, causing Tony to turn to face him with the phone pressed to his ear. His mouth made a comical ‘O’ before he snapped it shut with a click of his teeth.  
“I take it you heard that. Sorry, side effect of dating me,” he smiled bitterly.  
“It’s okay, we were going to have to face it sooner or later. Just happened to be sooner.”  
Steve looped an arm around Tony’s waist and dragged him to the couch. Tony’s cheeks were bright pink but he was still pale, still in dire need of rest. His eyes were bright and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. Steve pulled Tony into lying position, Tony’s head in his lap. Steve began carding his fingers through the dark locks, soothing the look of strain from Tony’s eyes. Which instantly began drooping.  
“We really need to talk about this though, Steve,” Tony murmured.  
“Okay.”  
“They are going to say bad things about us.”  
“And we shall ignore them.”  
“We’ll get hate mail.”  
“We’ll give it to Clint.”  
That coaxed a reluctant smile from Tony.  
“We’ll get yelled at in public.”  
“And we shall yet live.”  
“We haven’t even had one date yet, what if you break up with me?”  
“And what if you break up with me?“  
“Pfft like that will happen.”  
“As you said, we’ve only had one date. Let’s just see where this goes.”  
“That sounds…”  
Tony trailed off, having been lulled to sleep by Steve’s gentle head massage. Steve left him like that, carefully stroking a hand through his hair. Time slipped away from him because soon Pepper was walking through the apartment, heels clattering on the hardwood floors. Steve raised a finger to his lips, and indicated at the sleeping Tony. Pepper cast him a sympathetic look.  
“I’m sorry, but we just don’t have time,” she whispered.  
She gently shook Tony awake, who was clearly reluctant to be roused. Her persistence won though, as it always would. With a wiggle of his nose (which Steve found undeniably adorable) Tony blinked open his eyes. He rolled over and buried his face into Steve’s stomach, murmuring inaudibly but certainly bitterly. Steve shook Tony’s shoulders gently.  
“Tony, hey Tony. We need to talk.”  
Tony’s eyes instantly became alert, if only to turn apprehensive. He scrubbed a hand down his face, scratching at the stubble.  
“Well I guess I can’t begrudge you the 90’s sitcom cliché, you never lived through it. Let me guess, it’s not me, it’s you.”  
Steve looked perplexed and Pepper was worried.  
“What? No Tony, Steve isn’t trying to break up with you. Right?”  
“What, no, of course not. But we have to sort out this media thing.”  
“Oh right. Yeah, sorry. Media thing.”  
“We need to hold a press conference. I have one set up for tomorrow. Ideally I need Steve as well.”  
“No, there is no way I am putting Steve through that.”  
“I am fine doing it.”  
Tony turned to him with a look that was half betrayed as Steve sided with Pepper and half confused as to why someone would do all of this for him. Steve took his hand and squeezed.  
“It’s okay Tony. We’ll get through this.”  
“You both need to speak with Jen. She’ll get you both prepped for the press.”

 

Speaking with Jen, head of Stark Industries PR department, had taken a lot longer than Steve had thought. There was so much to consider: wardrobe; word choice; where he would stand; how big of a part he would play in the press conference. It was all rather overwhelming. By the time Steve had made it back to his room it was there early hours of the morning. There wasn’t even anyone up for a cup of cocoa and a midnight chat. Steve walked straight to his room, washing, stripping, and changing into sleep pants. He was just getting settled into bed when a small bell chime sounded in his room.  
“Captain Rogers, I am afraid Sir is sleep-walking.”  
“Where is he Jarvis?”  
“He is currently in the entertainments room.”  
Peculiar, he had no work that needed doing in there. Steve dragged himself down to the entertainments room, watching from the doorway as Tony paced around the room. His hands were clutching so tightly at a sheet of paper they were ripping it, his eyes glassy and unseeing as he stared at the black print on the sheet of paper. Even in his state, Tony seemed to register Steve entering the room. He walked straight up to Steve and placed a strong hand in the centre of Steve’s chest. Steve could just catch murmured conversation slip past Tony’s lips.  
“Can’t do that to you… gonna hurt you… can’t… we need to… I can’t do this… break up.”  
Steve’s breath stilled. They’d barely made it past a day and already Tony seemed to want to break up. Steve bent down, listening more carefully now, hearing the entire of Tony’s litany.  
“Media vicious, can’t put you through that. Can’t do that to you. Easier on you if I break up with you. Selfish. I dun wanna…”  
Steve smiled fondly at Tony who was soon encompassed by Steve’s arms. It felt like a massive weight had been lifted, the sudden burden placed on and then gone from his shoulders in minutes. Tony soon pulled away, leaving Steve with the piece of paper he had been clasping. It was Tony’s statement for tomorrow (today?). Tony had fallen back onto the couch and curled up in a small ball, knees pressed to the arc. Steve returned to his room a short while later. Though, not five minutes after he’d gone, he’d been alerted by Jarvis that Tony was sleep walking again. Steve’s door was pushed open slowly, and Tony walked in, his body graceful and loose. Steve hadn’t even had the time to get out of bed, before Tony was throwing back the covers and climbing in. He stared up at Steve, eyes unfocused. He shuffled closer and lay his head down on Steve’s chest. Steve just drew him closer with one arm, the engineer heaving a contented sigh. After that, the genius’s lashes dipped and he closed his eyes again, on the faint murmur of the blonde’s name.

 

“Okay, how did I get in your bed?”  
“Sleepwalking.”  
“And we didn’t…?”  
Steve was puzzled by whatever Tony was asking.  
“I mean we were meant to be going slow.”  
“What? Oh you mean- No Tony, we didn’t do that. Call me old fashioned but I would definitely prefer you conscious for that.”  
“Oh right, and not old fashioned, really not old fashioned. Only creeps want unconscious.”  
“Glad I’m not a creep then.”  
“I feel like one, wandering into your room in the middle of the night,” Tony winced, “I’m sorry, I have no idea why I ended up in your bed.”  
Steve pulled Tony down into his lap, Tony letting out a startled cry.  
“It’s okay Tony, I don’t mind. You sleepwalk when you are stressed, right? Well if this helps…”  
Tony shook his head, refusing to be reliant on anyone.  
“I have to get to the workshop, Stark Industries needs new stuff otherwise the stock. Oh god the stock.”  
Tony ran a hand through his sleep dishevelled hair and dashed from the room.  
“Great, so he’s not going to be sleeping for a while,” Steve said to no one in particular.  
“Indeed, Captain,” came a polite British reply.

 

Around midday, Steve grabbed a sandwich for the genius hiding downstairs. He looked around for the rest of the team but no one was to be seen or heard. Weird. Normally he could hear Thor from a mile away. He never heard Natasha but her torturing (read as teasing) Clint normally led to amusing yelps. Bruce’s lab was silent, lacking the whirring of machinery. Everything was dead quiet. Not even the sound of Coulson shuffling papers. He dragged Tony from his workshop and waited as he showered. Steve got changed into a pale grey suit with a light blue dress shirt underneath, Tony came out wearing slate grey suit, white dress shirt, and periwinkle tie. His face was the most solemn Steve had ever seen it. Steve took Tony’s hand when they entered the elevator and squeezed. To his joy and relief, Tony squeezed back. They didn’t drop hands, even as they entered and the cameras flashed in their faces. Pepper guided them to the long table at the head of the room where four people were already seated.  
“Why are the rest of the team here?” Tony whispered in Steve’s ear.  
Steve glanced over the table, feeling reassured by the easy smiles of the rest of his team.  
“Support I think.”  
Tony’s jaw dropped, he closed it with a click and smiled. They sat together in the centre of the table, with Bruce on Tony’s right and Natasha on Steve’s left, Pepper starting up the conference.  
“Welcome everyone. We apologise for the delay in this conference, however the Avengers needed a little time to recover from their most recent assignment. Thank you all for being so understanding on that matter. Please raise your hand and state who the question is directed at. Thank you.”  
Pepper took her seat behind the desk and everyone waited patiently for the onslaught of noise to die down. Tony took control, selecting each reporter.  
“Bethany, go ahead.”  
“Tony. So is it true that you have become gay?”  
Tony plastered on his for the press smile, face a mask but eyes cold.  
“Forgive me, but I need to correct your question on two parts. First of all, you don’t just _become_ gay. It is how you are born. Secondly, I am bisexual. Please do not dismiss my past relationships with women because I am currently with a man. However if you are asking if I am officially ‘coming out’ then yes.”  
The girl looked a little sheepish but wrote frantically.  
“Miss Wong.”  
“Miss Potts, how do you feel about this relationship? And how will it affect Stark Industries?”  
“Stark Industries will remain unaffected by this, as Mr Stark’s personal life does not affect the quality products we make. He has contributed a lot towards this company with award winning patents and designs and will continue to do so. Stark Industries is one of the leading enterprises in equal rights opportunities and has been for six years running. It is no secret that we accept everyone regardless of race, sexuality, or gender. Stark Industries welcomes this relationship. But me personally? Well I couldn’t be happier for them. I have never seen them happier than when they are with each other.”  
The team made noises of agreement and Steve and Tony both blushed crimson. Tony coughed then moved on.  
“Derek.”  
“Miss Romanoff, there have been allegations that Mr Stark has been sleeping with the team. As the only woman, how do you feel about this?”  
“Honestly it’s laughable. These are completely unfounded. Mr Stark has never made a pass at myself nor any other member of the team-“  
“If he never made a pass,” Derek interrupted, “how is it that he and Captain America are currently together?”  
Natasha paused, looking at Steve and Tony. Tony nodded at Steve but Natasha could see his usually sure and steady hand shaking under the table. Steve leaned in to the microphone.  
“I asked him out. I want to state right now, several allegations have been made stating that Tony- Mr Stark’s actions were non-consensual. These are all false. We are in a mutual relationship.”  
Tony squeezed Steve’s hand under the table, fingers locked like a vice around Steve’s hand. But his voice held steady.  
“Miss Brant.”  
“To the team. How do you all feel about this relationship?”  
Clint leaned forward first.  
“I share Miss Potts’ sentiment. I could not be happier. Gives me more to tease-“  
Bruce cut in, “having worked closely with both of them now for many years, I want to add that they will work well together. Not just on the field. They have proven that already many times over. They have been close friends for many years, and it isn’t as big of shift if you saw them both together.”  
“The team anticipated this, even looked forward to it,” Thor boomed, causing everyone to wince.  
“And might I add, it’s about time. We are all proud of the two of them. Not only are they in the early stages of a relationship, which is difficult enough, but they have to face the media as well,” Natasha said, her tone saccharine and bitter.  
There was stunned silence for a moment. Every reporter looking rather scared as they took in what Natasha said. Well except for one very annoying blonde reporter.  
“Christine Everhart Vanity Fair right?,” Tony said with a shark toothed grin.  
“Captain America, how can you expect yourself to protect America when you can’t even hold up its most basic values?”  
The question everyone had been waiting for. Tony’s foot began tapping erratically, luckily hidden by the floor length white tablecloth.  
“Well Miss Everhart, I fail to see how I am not holding up basic values. America was founded on the principles of freedom and equality. Something that is often forgotten these days. When I am treated as lesser for loving who I love, or when I do not share the same rights as a heterosexual couple, those people denying me are the ones failing to stick by America’s values.”  
Christine dove straight in with another question.  
“Are you saying you love Mr Stark?”  
Before Steve could even think of an answer, before he could open his mouth to reply, Tony jumped in.  
“Of course he isn’t saying that. This might surprise you but life isn’t a movie. We haven’t been seeing each other all that long, and love at first sight is nigh on impossible. Steve- Captain America is merely using himself as an example.”  
“I would have rather heard from Captain America, Mr Stark,” Christine said coldly.  
“Forgive me, Miss Everhart, but Mr Stark is right,” replied Steve, “it is too soon to tell for now.”  
Tony’s foot finally stilled by his side and his hand stopped shaking.  
“Carrie.”  
“Captain America, when this inevitably ends, how will the team cope?”  
“What makes you think this will ‘inevitably end’?” Steve all but growled at the tiny reporter.  
She flushed a little under the calm demeanour and angry eyes of the super soldier. Tony’s mask broke for just a second, wide grin and adoring eyes greeted Steve when he looked down at his partner. Then a camera flashed, bringing them both back round. Tony’s head jerked so hard, Steve worried he gave himself whiplash.  
“Forgive me, let me rephrase. If this ends, how will the team cope?”  
Steve smiled at her rephrased question.  
“Both Mr Stark and I knew the possible consequences of this relationship before getting into it. Over the years we have never let our personal feelings affect each other or the team on the battlefield. And as always, the safety of New York, and the rest of the world comes first and foremost.”  
Once more there was stunned silence. Only it continued this time. Pepper stood and moved back around to the front of the table.  
“If there are no more questions for Mr Stark, Captain Rogers, or the team, this press conference is now over.”  
Everyone rose from their seats, making their way to the door through camera flashes. Then all at once the reporters started crowding around, camera’s flashing in their faces. Steve and Tony were hurried from the room and shoved into an elevator. Steve leant down and kissed Tony, feeling the shorter man smile against his mouth. Another camera flash as the elevator doors closed.  
“Goddammit. Jarvis, entertainments room.”  
They rocketed up, Tony striding out and dragging Steve along with him. He flicked on the TV and sat down with a groan. The news was already showing recording from the press conference and someone had snapped the kiss in the elevator. How that made it on TV in the miniscule length of time it took to ride the elevator, Steve had no idea. Headlines flashed across the screen. ‘Tony Stark whipped’, ‘Iron Man and his new found patriotism’, and ‘STARK IN LOVE’ were just a few that appeared on screen. Pepper walked in soon after.  
“So it made it to the news already. I think that’s record timing. Good news is that could not have gone better. Both of you handled your questions beautifully. Bad news, you have about two weeks before this dies down even slightly, they will be pulling up every picture of the two of you together from every archive in existence. It’s the feeding frenzy. Oh, more good news though, following the press conference Stark Industries stock rose back to previous figures and have been holding. Mail over the past few hours, though currently small, seems to be mostly support. All in all, it seems reassuring.”  
She smiled at him, but he had barely been listening.  
“I need to, to make things. Board will complain. Need to, new.”  
Tony stood, wavering on his feet. His face looked flushed, though the rest of him was still eerily pale. His pupils were dilated and his babbling was near incoherent. Steve stepped forward and rested the back of his hand on Tony’s forehead. Burning hot.  
“Pepper, he’s got a fever, call Bruce.”  
“No, m’fine. No Bruce. Need work. Make new,” Tony gabbled, leaning heavily against Steve.  
“No you need bed and Bruce.”  
Tony shook his head but made no effort to move, almost all of his weight supported by Steve. Steve just swung Tony up into his arms and carried him to Tony’s room. When laid out on the bed, Tony began shivering and pulling the thick bed covers over himself. Steve just pulled them back away to moans and whines.  
“Stop, that will make you too hot.”  
“Hot damn,” Tony murmured back with a smile.

 

A few minutes later and Bruce walked in, carrying an old medical bag.  
“Most likely shoulder wound became infected. Pray it’s not the arc reactor. You seem to have spotted it early, so that’s a plus,” he chucked a bottle of iced water at Steve, “he needs to stay hydrated. Can you get him sat up?”  
Steve managed to support Tony against him, the genius half-asleep and moaning at Jarvis to increase the heating. Steve overrode and asked Jarvis to turn on the AC. Bruce pressed a stethoscope to Tony’s back, ignoring his flinch at the cold.  
“Infection hasn’t reached the chest which, with his already compromised lungs, is always a god-send. Can take a while to develop which is why he hasn’t shown any outward symptoms by now, plus Tony is really stubborn and won’t tell us when he feels like crap. Keep him cool, and give him two each of these two twice a day for a week. Other than that. Bed rest.”  
Banner chucked two small bottles of pills at Steve.  
“You had one hell of a first date. Fighting a killer tortoise and dealing with the press and now a sick partner.”  
Steve looked down fondly at where Tony had fallen into a doze against Steve’s chest.  
“It’s worth it.”  
Tony’s eyes flicked open, and he made to move off the bed. Bruce watched curiously as Tony wandered over to his wardrobe. He pulled out his overly large leather jacket, rip repaired to such a degree that you couldn’t see the damage. He wrapped it around Steve’s shoulders and with glazed eyes he wandered out into the hall.  
“What is he doing?” Bruce asked enquiringly.  
“He’s sleepwalking, happens when he gets stressed,” Steve replied, making to follow Tony.  
“Oh really? Interesting,” Bruce followed Tony out the door.  
Tony walked straight past Clint and Natasha, ignoring Clint’s offer of a high five as he passed.  
“Hey we made it past the press, wait Tony, what’s wrong?”  
“Sleep walking again, and ill with a fever.”  
Natasha grabbed the back of Tony’s shirt, tugging him away from the elevator. Clint clapped his hands on Tony’s shoulders, stopping him from walking anywhere else. Natasha felt Tony’s forehead and suddenly he slumped against her, eyes closed and breathing deeply. She caught him, tucking her arms under his. Her knees buckled at the sudden increase in weight and Clint caught hold of him to stop him flooring Natasha. Suddenly Tony supported his own weight again, moving swiftly to a room none of the others had seen him enter before.

 

An antique oak desk stood in the centre of the room. Tony picked up a phone on the table top and dialled.  
“You rang?”  
Tony accidentally set the phone to speaker, still holding the phone to his ear.  
“No Tony, you rang me.”  
“Pepper?” Steve asked.  
“Steve? I thought he was down for bed rest-“  
“Book me that funny blonde woman, you know, Dory. I like her. And Fallon. If I so much as set foot in a Fox Studio you are fired, Jen.”  
“He’s sleep walking, Miss Potts. And what’s so bad about Fox?”  
The team sighed behind him.  
“They spread lies. They really should be shut down.”  
“What about freedom of the press?”  
“With them?” Natasha arched a delicate eyebrow, “Well I am the token female who needs to be removed from the team to ‘make way for real strength’. Or a communist Russian Spy, trying to take down America. Or I am sleeping with you all.”  
“They claim I am an illegal alien taking ‘real Americans’ jobs’,” Thor said with a grin.  
“The Other Guy isn’t overly popular,” Bruce shrugged.  
“I had the whole Loki thing, and they all think I am actually a robot Stark designed.”  
“I’m dead according to them, which is a plus I guess, despite having been seen with the team multiple times,” Coulson added with a twitch of his lips.  
“And I slept my way to the top of Stark Industries and Tony, during his _delightful_ three month vacay in Afghanistan, he became a terrorist and is, to this day, funding a terrorist cell. Oh, and since the closure of Stark Industries Weapons Manufacturing departments Tony is endangering the lives of hard working Americans with his ‘hard-core hippie communist ethics’ and putting the nation’s economy at risk.”  
“Don’t worry Cap, none of it got much traction but they bring it up every so often,” Clint added hastily, noting the way a nerve in Steve’s jaw twitched.  
“What is Tony on about though? Dory? Fallon?”  
“Chat shows. It’s expected now that you two are publically ‘out’,” Natasha said, with air quotes.  
“And he means Ellen, not Dory. She is the voice of Dory in Finding Nemo,” Pepper added with a smirk in her voice, “I’ll get Jen to book him on.”  
“But he’s ill-“  
“And he knows this needs doing,” Pepper said firmly, “he’ll manage. I wish he wouldn’t, that he’d actually take a day off, but he won’t. It’s easier to go with him, than use up his energy by fighting it.”  
Steve nodded despite the fact Pepper couldn’t see. Tony was wandering around the desk, still jabbering into the phone. Steve plucked the phone from his hand and handed it off to Bruce. Tony smiled, bright and easy, no strain or masks. Just an honest real smile. His lashes dipped closed once more and he slumped into Steve’s waiting arms, somehow knowing he’d be caught. Steve pulled Tony’s arm over his shoulder, and hooked his arm under Tony’s legs, sweeping him up and supporting him with a hand against the small of his back.  
“I’m going to put him to bed.”  
“Way ay.”  
Bruce just smacked Clint around the head with the phone, Pepper’s laughs resonating in the room. Steve carried Tony out of the room and lay him in his bed. Tony refused to release his grasp on the collar of Steve’s shirt. With a sigh of amusement, Steve worked off Tony’s fingers and received a groan for his efforts. Steve placed a hand against Tony’s neck, still feeling the unnatural heat. Steve drew away, heading for his own room. A sharp keening noise came from the sheets. Steve turned back to see Tony tensing and twitching. With a sudden jerk his legs spasmed, tangling in the sheets. Steve crouched down by Tony’s head, running a hand through his sweat slicked hair. He made hushing sounds, soft tones aiming to soothe Tony. The man was writhing beneath his blankets, breathes coming in hitched gasps and a hand coming up to claw at his chest. Steve caught it before he could so much as touch the arc and brought it to his lips. He kissed his palm, feeling dextrous fingers uncurl and relax as they brushed against his jaw. Tony’s body rolled to the side, arm wrapping around Steve’s waist and face resting against Steve’s thigh, eliciting a chuckle from the blonde.  
“If I didn’t know better I would say you are trying to get me into bed, Stark.”  
The surprise came when he got a sleepy reply.  
“What gave me away?”  
“Sorry, did I wake you?”  
“Better I was woken, Afghanistan isn't nice this time of year. And your laugh is a nice alarm clock.”  
“Budge over.”  
“Huh?”  
“What, you mean you are going to send me _all_ the way back to my room on a cold night like this.”  
“No but… going slow?” Tony asked but was already moving over to make room for Steve.  
“We’ve slept together before.”  
“True,” he murmured drowsily.  
His fever had Tony convinced that is entire body was frozen, so he shuffled to the side, allowing Steve more access to the bed. Once Steve was settled the shivering genius lay across his chest, head tucking in under Steve’s jaw.  
“Woah, before you go to sleep, you need to drink.”  
Steve plucked a bottle of water (left by Bruce) from the nightstand, Tony clasping at it like a man in a desert. He drank greedily, gulping down the water.  
“Stop, save some. I have anti-biotics and anti-pyretics. You need to take them.”  
Tony snatched at the pills on Steve’s palm and dry swallowed them, quickly finishing the last of the water. Steve levered Tony back down.  
“How do you feel?”  
“Fine.”  
“Are you lying?”  
“No.”  
“Was that a lie?”  
There was a pause. That proved it. Tony was guilty.  
“No.”  
Steve smiled into Tony’s hair at the adamant refusal to admit weakness. Tony was asleep again in seconds.

 

Pepper strode in, ordering Jarvis to remove the tinting from the window. Steve and Tony blinking blearily in the newly brightened room.  
“Rise and shine lovebirds,” Pepper called cheerily clapping her hands loudly by Tony’s ear in an attempt to rouse him.  
And judging by the volume of expletives spewing from Tony’s mouth it was working.  
“I think he needs coffee,” Pepper suggested.  
“Agreed,” Steve responded, “Jarvis?”  
“Already brewing Captain. It should be ready in approximately three minutes.”  
The groan from Tony could only be classed as obscene, Steve laughing as Tony zombie-shuffled into the kitchen, following his nose to find rich, robust coffee. Steve watched in amusement as Tony fumbled around the kitchen, searching for a mug. Giving up his pursuit – not having noticed the mug tree full of mugs right next to the coffee pot – Tony grabbed a bowl and filled that up with coffee. Adding diabetes-inducing levels of sugar Tony drank deeply, not caring as he made a spectacle of himself.  
“Better?” Steve asked once the bowl had been drained.  
Tony moaned low and deep in response, the noise causing warmth to pool in Steve’s abdomen.  
“How about some breakfast?” He suggested.  
“Only if it comes with more coffee.”  
“I think I can handle that.”  
Steve plucked the bowl from Tony’s hands, swapping it for a mug. Bacon and eggs were fried gently, sausages sizzling on the grill and the sweet smell of pancakes soon filled the air.  
“I smell food,” Clint announced, hanging upside down from an air vent.  
“Get the others and you can all have some.”  
A ‘yippee’ echoed down the vent as Clint sped off to announce food. Pepper was leafing through a folder, picking out certain sheets of paper.  
“So Mr Stark, I have you booked on Ellen for tomorrow morning, and Fallon is booked for next week.”  
“Oh Pepper you are the best, I love you,” Tony replied with enthusiasm, kissing her on the cheek.  
“Should I be jealous?” Steve asked jokingly, hand on hip as he leant over the stove.  
“Of Pepper? Yes,” Tony retorted with a straight face and waving a fork-speared pancake in the air, “yes you should. Everyone should. Hell, I am jealous of Pep and her supernatural abilities to do everything and still make it look easy.”  
Tony bit into the pancake with enthusiasm, groaning at the sinful taste (what? Steve was a good cook). Pepper was trying hard not to smile, mouth curling up at the edges. Tony leaned over the breakfast counter, quick to reassure his boyfriend (date? Partner? They needed a name for whatever they are) with a gentle press of lips. Steve smirked into the coffee and syrup flavoured kiss. Pepper made herself scarce soon after.  
“How about breakfast in bed?”  
“How about we skip the breakfast?”  
“So much for going slow.”  
“Hey, you wanted to get me into bed.”  
“With good reason.”  
Steve placed four pills in front of Tony, who gave them a look of loathing. At Steve’s arched eyebrows he threw his hands into the air in defeat.  
“Fine, I’ll take the damn pills. But I. Am. Fine.”  
Steve leaned in, capturing the complaining lips. He cupped a hand around the back of Tony’s neck, drawing him closer. He received a whimper for his efforts, Tony’s hands clutching at Steve’s shirt, fingers fisting the fabric. Beneath his hand, Tony was still far too warm.  
“Breakfast in bed?”  
“Only if you join me.”  
“Where else would I be?”  
Tony drained the remains of his coffee while taking the pills, snagging the remains of syrup soaked pancakes. Steve loaded up a plate with bacon, eggs, sausages, and toast. The bedroom door was shut, neither of the pair realising that for the past five minutes they had had an audience.  
“Did… Did Cap just manage to get Stark to go to bed? _willingly_?”  
“I… I’m not sure.”  
“Is this the Twilight Zone?”  
“I’m placing my bets on Richards and some kind of alternative universe.”  
“Or Steve is just really good in bed.”  
“They haven’t slept together yet.”  
“How do you know that?”  
“It’s my job to know, Clint, meant to be yours too.”  
“Yeah yeah. Then how did Cap get Stark into bed?”  
“Simple.”  
There was a minutes silence.  
“You aren’t going to tell us are you?”  
Natasha crunched on bacon, dipping it in some syrup. She looked as if she was conflicted, a battle raging within her. Before she finally settled on-  
“No,” she stated simply, grin on her face.  
Everyone else settled down, eating the remnants of breakfast, Clint and Thor filling the industrial sized toaster with Poptarts. Suddenly there was a shriek and a solid thump. Then laughter.  
“You are a tease Captain Rogers. A tease.”  
“Just eat your damn pancakes.”

 

It was early the following morning when Natasha tapped lightly on the door to Tony’s room.  
“Captain Rogers gestured for you to enter, Miss Romanoff, but he pleads that you remain quiet.”  
She smirked up at the ceiling.  
“I think I can handle that, thank you Jarvis.”  
“You are most welcome Miss Romanoff.”  
Natasha pushed open the door, balancing two sandwiches on her free arm.  
“I brought you breakfast. Kind of. BLT. How did you get him to stay in bed all day?”  
Natasha was curious, looking at Steve sat against the headboard reading. Tony was asleep next to him, head resting on Steve’s thigh. Natasha could see the outline of clasped hands beneath the thin sheets, and traced one of them up to Steve’s arm, hidden by covers.  
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” Steve grinned.  
“I’d like to see you try,” she challenged, glint in her eye, “how is he?”  
“Better, temperature is a couple of degrees lower.”  
“ ‘m fine. What time is it?” Tony asked, blinking awake and turning to the alarm clock, “gotta get ready for Ellen.”  
Tony stood, eyes still at half mast, and wandered into the shower.  
“Seriously, how did you get him to stay in bed?”  
“I don’t actually know.”  
“I know,” she teased.  
“You know everything.”  
“Maybe that’s what I want you to think. Maybe I don’t know at all.”  
Steve shrugged.  
“Doesn’t matter to me. But if you have something to add to the ‘Feeding and Care of Tony Stark’ manual, I’m sure everyone would appreciate it.”  
She smiled at him as Tony walked back into the bedroom, towel around his waist and another in his hand, drying his hair. He pulled out simple blue jeans, a white t-shirt and a red checked shirt.  
“Is this too…?”  
“Yes, swap the jeans for these,” Natasha said, holding up a pair of beige khakis.  
Tony took them gratefully, then actually seemed to notice that she was there.  
“When did you get here?”  
“Just now,” she smiled.  
“Liar, she’s been here since you woke up,” Steve laughed.  
Tony half-smiled, eyes still heavy with sleep. He grabbed the pills Steve had out for him, and kissed him softly on the lips, broken by a yawn. He rested his forehead against Steve’s, his eyes fluttering shut as though he wished he could just crawl back into bed. Dry swallowing the pills, Tony left the room muttering about coffee, throwing an overly large leather jacket across his shoulder. Natasha turned to Steve.  
“You still going to do the thing?”  
Steve grinned and nodded.  
“Have fun,” she turned to leave waving over her shoulder.

 

Chat shows were boring. He hated them. Even if he liked the presenter. They were just dull. Questions about the latest change in his life, whether it was new product, the latest Avengers battle, or just a change in haircut. That’s why he liked Ellen. At least there were no stupid questions with her. And she was more fun than most. And he was sat in a comfy armchair, chatting away.  
“How long have the two of you been together?”  
“Well,” Tony grinned, “the infamous picture was actually of our first date, so not long. But we’ve been living together as teammates and friends since, oh god how long has it been? About three years now.”  
“That long huh?”  
“Yeah, seems like no time at all to me.”  
“So you must know him really well.”  
“I’d like to think so.”  
“Tell us something about Steve then. Not Captain America.”  
“Well I could tell you about how sweet and kind he is, about how much he loves art. But you aren’t here for that. You want the juicy gossip. Well, you’ve come to the right person. He cannot stand odd socks.”  
The audience roared with laughter.  
“Really?”  
“Yep. Hates it. I was wearing odd socks once, just around the Tower. Made me take them off.”  
“Is that all the dirt you have on him?”  
“He’s Captain America, there isn’t a speck of dirt about him.”  
“You’ve worked so well on the field together, almost always in sync with each other. Would you say it’s like you can read each other’s mind?”  
Tony chuckled.  
“I guess you could say that.”  
“You know everything he’s going to do.”  
“After three years of living with him, I-“  
Hands slammed down on the arm of the chair along with a yell of “TONY.” And Tony, honest to god, screamed on national TV. He slapped a hand to his mouth, too late to block out much of the noise. He turned around, chasing the familiar voice with a scowl, seeing Steve laughing along with the audience and clapping, pride on his face. Tony stood, going chest to chest with Steve, a look of challenge in his eyes.  
“I will get you back for that Rogers.”  
“I don’t doubt it.” Steve kissed the scowl from Tony’s lips.  
He kept up the soft pecks until he felt Tony smile against him and chase after his lips. Tony pulled away, turning to Ellen.  
“I do believe I was set up,” he said with a smirk.  
“His idea,” Ellen laughed, holding her hands up to her shoulders.  
The armchair had been replaced by a loveseat, which the couple sat down on.  
“Aren’t they cute guys.”  
The audience clapped and cheered loudly, Steve tried to hide his face against Tony’s neck. Tony cupped his chin and guided it back away.  
“You snuck onto this show, now deal with the consequences,” Tony smiled wickedly.  
And chat shows became a lot more interesting with Steve at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Concept for Chat Show taken from: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o-nitNa498M


	16. Stop With The Cat Puns, They Are Just Clawful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pure crack. I have no idea what possessed me to write this but I had a lot of fun doing so. I hope you enjoy reading it.  
> Sorry about the delay, I had job interviews and I got a job :D

# Chapter 16 – Stop with the cat puns, they are just clawful

It seems the Avengers had three people who were always at fault. If it was something normal, then it was always Clint’s fault. Pasta burnt, Clint’s fault. Even though he was in Peru at the time. Still his fault. TV not playing the group’s favourite episode of Supernatural, Clint’s fault. The TV broke after an intensive five day video game tournament. Okay, that one was actually Clint’s fault. Anything that went wrong in the magic department was blamed on Loki. Usually that actually was his fault. So far they had already seen kiddie Tony, a hell of a lot of giant moths, a bilgesnipe, and that was only this month. Anything that went wrong in the science department was blamed on Fuckin’ Richards. Pompous Ass-Butt. So Portals, Richards’ fault. The bizarre freeze ray/heat ray hybrid that they had to shut down. Yep, that was Richards. Fuckin’ Richards. But this. They didn’t know who to blame it on. After all does an unknown potion that one idiotic genius knocked onto himself count as magic or science? Or was the action mundane enough to be Clint’s fault? The Avengers just couldn’t tell. While they pondered out this dilemma, a doctor finally gave up attempting to access the SHIELD medical room, were Tony was sat and refusing to see anyone. Steve had attempted but had been sent immediately away. They could only hear screeches frantically demanding Pepper to bring his suitcase suit. Eventually Pepper walked through medical, black stilettos clacking against the floor.

 

“Pepper, finally!”  
Pepper just stared at him aghast, face paling to a dangerous shade of white/grey.  
“Pep, maybe you should sit down?” Tony stood from the bed he was curled on, and dragged a chair placing it carefully behind his CEO and best friend.  
“Is this just because you have a Board Meeting in three days?”  
“No, what? I’m not trying to get out of work. We don’t know what’s to blame so I am going with Clint.”  
“Clint turned you into a cat.”  
“Yes.”  
“No Tony.”  
“Richards then?”  
“Pretty sure this is your fault.”  
“At least I’m not full cat.”  
“Yeah but the ears, the tail, the teeth. And either you need to cut your nails or you also have claws. You are at least 15% Cat.”  
“Only 12%, which isn’t too bad. And it’s okay, I can retract them like an actual cat.”  
“You are surprisingly upbeat about this.”  
“I’ve suffered through worse.”  
“But you are a public figure. Who is also a cat.”  
“Can’t we just explain to the public?”  
“No Tony. A portal in the sky freaked the public out enough, we really don’t need to add to it.”  
“Fine, then I just want to get home, thanks for bringing the suit.”  
Pepper reached out to stroke the brown tabby ears.  
“Ma days, how very forward of you ma’am,” Tony drawled in his best approximation of a Southern Belle.  
Pepper withdrew her hand sharply, giving Tony a piercing glare. He dropped the act and his ears flattened against his skull.  
“Have you even let the doctors check you over?”  
Tony remained silent.  
“Have you let your team see you?”  
Again silence.  
“For God’s sake Tony, no wonder they are panicking in the corridor.”  
“Oh come on, there is no way I can face Barton like this.”  
She looked thoughtful for a moment then nodded. Tony’s ears perked up.  
“Okay I understand that much. How are you going to get your ears and tail in the suit?”  
Tony just flattened his ears against his head, and pulled his tail in close to himself. He cocked his head with a smirk.  
“Can you at least go see Steve?”  
“I think he’s allergic to cats.”  
Pepper threw her hands in the air in frustration. “He’s a super soldier, he’s not allergic to anything.”  
“Don’t want to risk it.”  
“Or you are just too embarrassed to admit you somehow turned yourself into a cat.”  
“Fine, that too. Happy?”  
“ _Ecstatic_ ,” she replied, her tone dry, “but I’ll see if I can rearrange your meetings.”  
“Thanks Pep, life saver.”  
He brushed a kiss to her cheek, causing her to stifle a giggle. He looked at her curiously.  
“Sorry, just your whiskers tickle.”  
Tony’s hands immediately to his cheeks, feeling for the offending whiskers. Pepper looked a tad bashful.  
“Okay, I could have phrased that better. I meant your beard and moustache tickles.”  
Tony heaved a sigh of relief then started suiting up.

 

Everyone stood as he stepped out. Steve reached out to take his metal clad hand.  
“Hey Tony, you okay?”  
“Yeah, yeah, it’s nothing. Let’s go home.”  
He could feel his ears twitch under the helmet and his tail coil around his leg.  
“But a doctor didn’t even see you.”  
“I had Jarvis scan me.”  
Everyone just sighed at his aversion to hospitals.  
“At least get Bruce to check you over when we get home.”  
“Fine fine whatever.”  
They all boarded the Quinjet and left for the Tower.  
“Aren’t you uncomfortable in that?” Bruce was looking him up and down. “And why did you put on the suitcase suit anyway?”  
“Well I was expecting to fly home but you guys were waiting for me so hey, free ride. Didn’t think you’d wait that long.”  
“Didn’t think we’d wait that- Tony we were infiltrating a scientist-come-magician’s secret base and you suddenly stopped answering your comms. Did you think we would ditch you in SHIELD medical and just head home?”  
“Kinda yeah. I mean I am fine and it had been a long mission.”  
“Tony, we had been waiting outside that room for eight hours and in that time you only let Pepper in. Something’s up, now tell us what.”  
Tony just glared behind the mask. “I will explain to Bruce and Steve when we are back in my lab.”  
“You don’t trust the rest of the team?”  
“I do,” Tony quickly amended, “but I also know the rest of the team. There is no way Barton is seeing me like this.”  
The Quinjet landed, smoothly as always when Clint was piloting. Everyone made it out the jet before Tony could even get up, all waiting and blocking his exit. Okay, so he wasn’t getting out of this that easily.  
“Tony, just lift the visor.”  
“Nope.”  
Steve’s voice turned stern. “Tony.”  
Two syllables and that was all it took for Tony to cave. Goddam Captain-butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-his-mouth-and-so-hot-Tony-could-fry-salmon-on-his-abs.  
“Fine, just I cannot have any Paparazzi shots so inside.”  
When no one made any effort to move, other than a few quirked eyebrows, he did the only thing he could to show his desperation.  
“ _Please_ ,” he said tersely.  
With that they all turned and walked inside.

 

Now comfortably seated at the breakfast bar, everyone watched as Tony paced back and forth.  
“Okay, so I want to state for the record that I don’t know if it’s Clint’s, Richards’, or Loki’s fault. God I hope it’s Clint’s-“  
“HEY!”  
“But this time. Well I have no idea. Because. Well…”  
He pulled off the helmet, his ears happy to stretch out. The expected laughter erupted. Even Coulson, and Tony didn’t know the man could laugh. Tony just stood calmly, stripping himself of the rest of the suit and waiting for it to subside. Which it eventually did, except for a chortling Clint who had tears streaming down his face.  
“Oh this is purrfect, I’m sure it’s a long dark tail but I haven’t the ear for it. I knew something smelt fishy with you but it must have just been your lunch.”  
“Well I have always had a penchant for sushi,” Tony grinned at him.  
“Are these fur-real Stark?” Clint asked, reaching to tug at Tony’s ears.  
“Oww and are you kitten me? Yes they are real.”  
“Hey, only I get to make cat puns!”  
“I would let you continue but yours are just clawful, whereas mine are hiss-terical.”  
Steve’s tired voice spoke next. “Are you done?”  
Both turned to him and in sync said “Paw-sibly.”  
Sometimes Steve wondered if Tony and Clint were twins separated at birth, they were so similar. Banner was just staring at the cat-human hybrid in front of him.  
“You are taking this remarkably well, considering you now have ears.”  
“I’ve always had ears doc.”  
“And a tail?”  
“Okay, the tail is new. And hey not dead.”  
“Can I run-“ Tony bolted. “-tests now?”  
“I guess Tony hates the vets almost as much as the doctors.”

 

It took three hours to locate Tony with Clint eventually finding an open vent about ten feet off the ground. Tony was crouched before him, back arched and shoulders wiggling. Ready to pounce. Tony’s eyes were reflective in the dim light of the arc reactor, shining amber in the darkness.  
“Shh Tony, it’s okay. Brucie just wants to give you a simple check-up. You like Brucie, it’ll be okay.”  
Tony’s ears flattened completely against his head, tail flicking dangerously behind him. The metronome of its thud against the ventilation shaft was the only response Clint got. He tried to reach for the feline but a hiss made him withdraw his hands. Tony clearly wasn’t himself right now but would never forgive himself if he harmed anyone.  
“Tony, did you actually just hiss at me?”  
Tony blinked once slowly, the reflective quality disappearing with the sweep of his lashes and replaced by warm and confused chocolate. He slumped to the floor of the vent.  
“Clint?” came his quietly confused voice.  
“Yeah buddy, you okay?”  
“I think so. Where am I?”  
“Air vent in the gym. Let’s get you out of here.”  
Clint helped Tony out of the shaft and led him to Bruce’s lab. Tony seemed unsteady on his feet so Clint looped an arm around his waist. The genius didn’t even complain at the assist. God he hoped Bruce’s lab held the answers.

 

Bruce’s lab must hold the answers. It had to. They settled Tony into one of the plush armchairs. He yawned widely, displaying his prominent canines, before curling into a ball in the chair.  
“So you are dating a cat?”  
“Yeah, I believe I am. Any idea why my- why Tony has become a cat?”  
“No but I will. Hold him down so I can get a blood sample.”  
Steve carefully held down Tony as Bruce drew blood, separating it into various test tubes. Tony didn’t even stir. Bruce began running tests and Tony remained curled up, so Steve took his leave. Cooking salmon for when Tony awoke he chatted happily to the rest of his team. Well, until the twinsassins broke into argument.  
“It’s not like he’s in pain, why can’t we just hope for the best Nat?”  
“We don’t even know what we are dealing with, Clint. We can’t get our hopes up.”  
“But it’s Tony!”  
“And Tony is only human.”  
“But he’s TONY, the most stubborn JACKASS that has graced this earth, he’s hardly going to die from being a CAT.”  
Natasha’s voice turned to a low snarl. “I have seen him close to death Barton, don’t forget that. A very slow, drawn out death. And that man,” she cast her arm towards the door, “is scared. And if _he’s_ scared. Well that means he can’t find a way out of it. And if _he can’t_ , well what hope does that leave the rest of us.”  
“Nice to know you put your faith in Bruce,” Barton said coldly.  
Natasha looked ready to hit Clint, meaning Steve had to step in or one of them would die.  
“Look Clint, I’m sure Natasha does have faith in Bruce. She is simply worried about Tony. And Nat, yes Tony is smart, and yes normally he can get himself out of these situations. But this is either magic or biology, neither of which are machines, so Tony takes little more than a rudimentary interest even if he has the knowledge. So Bruce is more equipped to come up with a solution. So both of you, be quiet and eat.”  
Steve placed salmon, fries and salad down on the breakfast bar. A cough from the doorway and Bruce entered, Tony sauntering through shortly after.  
“Running a tox report on his blood now, results in ten minutes. Figured he should eat something.”  
Tony meandered over to the sofa, sprawling himself along the back of it. Steve carried a plate of salmon over and was followed by the rest of the team. Tony sniffed the air then slid into Steve’s lap, eyes chatoyant and the colour of rich mead. Banner quickly headed back to his lab. Clint set up a film as Tony tucked into the fish in front of him. He curled up and dozed atop Steve’s lap.  
“Everybody wants to be a cat.”  
“Oh fuck off Barton, you had to choose this one,” came Tony’s sleepy murmur.  
“Thought you might appreciate the irony.”  
Near the end of the film, Steve was running his hand through Tony’s hair when they all froze. A low rumbling resounded across the room.  
“Please tell me I’m not the only one who can hear that. Otherwise I need Stark to design me a new hearing aid.”  
“Fear not Master Barton, I hear the sound too.”  
Natasha got to her feet, padding softly around the room. She eventually stilled next to Tony, placing a hand gently, palm flat, just below his throat. Steve and Natasha immediately pulled their hands away.  
“Oh my god, he purrs? Can we record this?”  
Tony began waking up from the lack of touch, bringing his wrist to his ear in a swiping motion.  
“Is he trying to groom himself?”  
“I don’t think he has the flexibility for total grooming.”  
Tony began kneading Steve’s legs, claws poking through the, in Tony’s words, horrible beige nightmare. This in Tony-speak, roughly translates to most of Steve’s wardrobe but specifically to the khakis currently adorning his legs. Soft mewing sounds escaped him as he butted his head against the underside of Steve’s jaw. He began rubbing himself across Steve, head-butting and paw-swiping and rubbing his chin into Steve’s hand.  
“Is the feline-“  
“Yup, Tony is scent-marking Steve.”  
“Scent-marking?” Steve asked suspiciously.  
“He’s marking you as his.”  
“I don’t know whether that is cute or creepy,” Clint intoned.  
“Join the club.”  
Steve just smiled fondly. With a stretch, Tony blinked his eyes open.  
“SHIT.” “WHAT THE FUCK!”  
His eyes were a golden honey, a black slit in the centre. Cat’s eyes. And at the yelling Tony arched his back up, tail pointed to the ceiling and fluffed out. His ears were flat and a faint growl could be heard. They all closed in on him slowly, hands out and placating. Bruce entered the room, opening the door, to announce his findings when Tony bolted.

 

They found him again easily enough. Apparently Tony had no qualms about repeating hiding places. Steve approached the air vent cautiously, standing at the opening since he was too big to climb in after Tony. He made soothing noises and reached into the vent. Tony padded forward softly, head-butting Steve’s hand, an invitation to stroke him. Steve turned back to the rest of the team, waiting patiently at the foot of the ladder he was using to reach the vent.  
“How is he?”  
“Calmer but he still has those eyes.”  
Bruce finally piped up on his findings.  
“Tony spilled a poison on himself. Part magic part science. I’m assuming it got into his system through the Iron Man mouthpiece and he swallowed a little. He was very lucky to have only swallowed a little, otherwise the Tower would have a new pet. Basically the toxin tries to replace his human D.N.A with feline. If I’m correct, the reason his eyes change is because the human part of his brain is having something similar to a seizure so the cat part takes over. We need to find something that will kill the cat part of him but leave the human part. The actual poison itself should leave his system in a few days. If we don’t find something to fight against the cat part, well the poison is speeding up the transformation exponentially, so we need to hurry.”  
They all stared in silence, no one daring to break it. Until finally-  
“Well… what ‘bout chocolate? Humans can handle far greater quantities than cats.”  
Everyone stared at Clint dumbfounded, while he just shrugged.  
“It was just a suggestion.”  
Bruce looked down at his clipboard and back up at Clint. “Mr Barton, you are a genius.”  
The rest turned to Banner, looks of shock on their faces.  
“That would work? But it’s so… _simple_.”  
“It should work, it might take Tony a while to recover fully but he wouldn’t be a cat. Jarvis?”  
“Ordering assorted chocolate supplies from Sir’s personal favourites.”  
Slowly Tony began climbing out the vent, placing his hands on Steve’s shoulders. Steve automatically leant forward and Tony climbed indelicately onto his back. Steve carried him down and through the hall, aiming for Tony’s bedroom. Until Clint caught his arm.  
“I think I saw this earlier. When he snaps out of this cat thing he has no idea where he is. It might be easier for him if we stick him back in the entertainments room.”  
Steve nodded and silently gestured for Clint to lead the way. All the while, Tony was purring against his back, a soft rumble that left Steve with a fuzzy ball of affection inside. There was a contented swish of his tail, occasionally brushing against the super soldier’s legs, and the ears had relaxed forward again. Then all at once his entire body tensed. Steve glanced at Tony. A slow blink then Tony’s usual eyes greeted him. Steve gently lowered him to the ground where Tony just sat, looking very perplexed. Steve cupped Tony’s chin, thumb caressing his cheek bone.  
“Hey,” he said softly, “do you know where you are?”  
Tony’s brow furrowed and he shook his head.  
“That’s okay, you are in the hallway outside of the gym.”  
Tony still looked confused.  
“Do you know who I am?”  
Thoughtful for a moment, then Tony nodded.  
“Okay then, who am I?”  
“Steve, the guy I am…” he twisted his hand in the air trying to summon up words that just weren’t coming. Eventually he gave up pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.  
“It’s okay, do you know who you are?”  
Tony looked panicked, and even after a minute the look didn’t fade.  
“No, I don’t think so.” He scrubbed his hands through his hair. “Gold titanium alloy.”  
“Huh?”  
“Iron Man, I’m Iron Man.”  
Tony looked joyful, happy to know something about himself.  
“You are more than just Iron Man though.”  
“Mr Stark?”  
“Still more than just your last name.”  
He looked puzzled then his face lit in recognition. “Tony, your Tony.”  
It might have been accidental, post poison delirium, but Steve couldn’t help the soft smile that bloomed on his face when Tony said he was Steve’s. Although it didn’t overcome his terror that the poison was slowly forcing Tony to lose himself.  
“That’s right,” he said through his smile.  
He carefully scooped Tony up and carried him to the entertainments room. They were waiting on chocolate supplies to be delivered. Tony suddenly pounced out of Steve’s arm and began chasing something across the room, tail flicking out behind him. Natasha was sat lazily on the back of the couch, wrist swaying with the ease of a conductor and his baton. Clint was stifling laughter behind his hand, holding his phone up to video. “What are you two doing?” Steve asked, trying to inject disapproval into his voice. It didn’t seem to deter the assassins as they continued, barely glancing at him.  
“Red dot, just wanted to see how cat-like he could be.”  
Clint tossed something to the ground, herbs scattering across the cream carpet. Tony instantly darted to it, rolling onto his back in it, arms stretched into the air. A blink and golden eyes gleamed at them. Steve dropped down next to Tony, pulling him away from the herbs on the floor.  
“Shit, what is that stuff? Get it away from him.”  
“Catnip, didn’t think it would do that to him.”  
Tony was struggling against him, pupils blown huge and claws out.  
“Nat, help me get him away, Clint clean this up.”  
“Aye aye Captain,” they responded in sync.  
Tony was still trying to push past Steve, who just stroked under his chin and down his neck softly. Tony mewed, bringing up his hands to snatch at Steve’s, luckily with the claws now retracted. He was scrabbling at the hand with his, nipping at the flesh below the thumb. It didn’t hurt, more like Tony was scraping his teeth along the skin. Steve edged backwards, Tony following as he head-butted Steve’s hand. Steve’s back hit the couch and he climbed up, Tony leaping gracefully after him. Barely seated, Steve was pushed down onto his back, Tony climbing on him. He curled up on top of Steve’s chest, yawn showing sharp white teeth. He lay his head down over Steve’s heart, shutting his eyes but not asleep.  
“Isn’t that going to hurt after a while? I mean Tony isn’t exactly small,” Natasha asked as she sat down by Steve’s head.  
“And how has he managed to curl up so small?” Clint added from the floor as he tried to sweep up the catnip.  
Steve shrugged from his position flat on his back on the couch, Tony’s purr a warm rumble seeping through him.

 

An hour and a half later, Tony had woken with walnut eyes gleaming. Spread out on the coffee table was a massive array of anything deemed remotely chocolate-y. A chocolate fountain, another of Clint’s devil’s food cakes, triple chocolate chip cookies, stacks of Hershey’s, chocolate milk, Ben & Jerry’s chocolate brownie ice cream, and chocolate Baileys. Tony grabbed some cookies and crushed them into the ice cream, and settled into the sofa. Natasha flicked Supernatural on and they all picked the usual positions around the room. About halfway through the ice cream Tony spoke up.  
“What’s with all the chocolate?” he asked like he’d only just noticed it.  
“Your antidote now shhhhh,” hissed Banner.  
At that Tony just dug in, eating through the supplies until eventually he flopped down next to Steve, fast asleep and snoring slightly with chocolate ice cream caught in the corners of his mouth. It happened slowly, so slowly that no one but Steve noticed at first. First the teeth shrunk back to normal size, the tail following. Thor noticed when the tail shrunk to a size that was no longer tapping against his neck. Tony rolled over in his sleep, facing the back of the sofa and giving everyone a clear view of the tail. Or lack thereof. The ears were the most curious part to watch. They seemed to slide down his head, twitching as they did so. Then, in rather grotesque fashion, the flesh and fur warped back into human ears. In his sleep Tony scratched behind them absently.

 

After several episodes Tony woke up. They watched in bemusement as he struggled to his feet. It seemed he had got used to his tail pretty easily and was now struggling to find his centre of balance without it. Steve was guiding him, stopping him face-planting the floor every other step. Tony still looked confused and dazed, as well as a bit queasy from the sheer volume of chocolate he had consumed. It only took an hour for Tony to find his equilibrium again. By that point Clint and Thor had finished off the chocolate so that ‘the man of iron need not consume more’.  
“Glad I didn’t turn fully feline, having me for a pet would have been a catastrophe.”  
Everyone around the room groaned.  
“What?”


	17. Dating Cap, Take Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, their first date. And it only took 17 chapters.

# Chapter 17 - Dating Cap, Take Two

Steve had called in the rain check. And Tony was trying to plan. Would it be okay to go back to the restaurant or would Steve expect somewhere new? He had kind of fucked up the last time, what with hospital and the unfortunate incident with the press. Maybe he should call Pepper again. No, not again. He could deal with this on his own. Okay, he would take Steve back to the restaurant, Steve seemed really excited for it that time. So back to Isabelle’s… then what? Maybe a movie. Nope too cliché. Although it was traditional. He could always opt for theatre. Okay, so Broadway. What would Steve like? Wicked. Wicked would work. He likes the Wizard of Oz, Wicked would be good. Great even. But maybe he should check if that would be a good idea.

 

“Bruuuuuuuce,” Tony whined as he barged into the lab.  
“What’s wrong?” Bruce asked, not even raising his gaze from the screen.  
“Would Steve want to see Wicked?”  
Banner pushed himself away from the computer, looking thoughtfully at Tony.  
“I think so, I don’t think he’s seen it. Why?”  
“No reason.”  
“Okay so it’s a date.”  
“What’s a date?” Natasha asked as she caught the tail-end of the conversation.  
“Nothing,” Tony hissed, glaring at Bruce.  
“Tony was wondering if Steve would want to see Wicked for their date,” Bruce commented as he turned back to his screen.  
“That sounds perfect.” Tony spun round to Natasha.  
“Wait, what?”  
“I think he’d love that. I mean he wouldn’t have managed to see much theatre as a kid, it would be a new experience for him. Plus Wizard of Oz remains his favourite movie despite Clint’s best efforts to change that.”  
“I am very glad to hear that Steve’s favourite movie hasn’t become Sharknado.”  
“I think we all are.”  
“But Wicked sounds… well, wicked.”  
Tony grinned, flicking out his phone, “Okay tickets are booked and a table is booked at Isabelle’s for after. Sound good?”  
“Sounds perfect, I think he’s going to love it.”  
Reassured, Tony left Bruce to his experiments and Natasha followed him out the room.  
“So date night?”  
“Yup,” Tony affirmed.  
“How’s it going?”  
Tony gave her the side eye, trying to figure out why this spider was crawling around him.  
“Alright, what are you after?”  
She moved to stand in front of him, all wide eyed innocence and butter unable to melt in her mouth.  
“How do you feel about Steve?”  
Tony could feel it crawling over his skin, the unwelcome tinge of pink staining his cheeks.  
“None of your business.”  
“Oh come on.”  
“If that’s the level of your persuasive techniques I think the world is safe from the infamous Black Widow.”  
“You know you want to. Let’s go for coffee and chat.”  
He thought for a moment. He had the date planned. There was nothing left he could do, no distractions. Plus coffee.  
“Dammit, fine. You have to use my kryptonite against me,” Tony groaned.  
“Coffee? Or Steve?” she teased.  
“Both.”  
“Both?”  
“Both is good.”  
“Road to el dorado?” she queried.  
“Yup,” Tony said succinctly “do the main two remind you of a pair of Gods we know?”  
Natasha smiled a little, gradually growing. Until finally she burst out laughing, low and sweet.  
“You are ridiculous, you know that right?” She said between giggles.  
“What? It is a legitimate thought.”  
“I guess they do a little,” Natasha conceded.

 

Somehow Natasha had managed to walk Tony downstairs, out of the tower and into a small coffee shop, off the beaten track, without him even realising. That’s what happens when you ask him about new tech designs. Non-stop conversation. She sat him down into a plush armchair, fabric worn but comfortable, a deep crimson. Natasha lowered herself into a cracked brown leather armchair opposite, setting a coffee in front of him.  
“So,” Natasha started, crossing her legs beneath her, “Steve huh?”  
“Yeah, Steve,” Tony looked at her curiously.  
“Why Steve?”  
“You’ve met Steve right? Because if you have you would know the answer to that. And I am pretty certain I’ve seen you around the tower. Like at least 12% certain, maybe even 15,” Tony says drily, rolling his eyes for emphasis.  
“I know why _I_ would go for Steve,” Natasha said with an evil grin, ignoring the look Tony shot her, “but I wanted to know why _you_ like him.”  
“Just to clarify-“  
“I’m not going to try anything with Steve.”  
“Good,” He replied, still eyeing her with suspicion, “so what is it you are after?”  
“Why do I have to be after anything?” she asked, her tone coy.  
Tony just fixed her with a look and took a sip from his drink. Some pathetically weak, milk-added, decaf, dishonours-the-name-of-coffee coffee. At his look of disgust, Natasha shrugged.  
“They ran out of toxically caffeinated.”  
“I am pretty sure this is torture.”  
“Just a horrible coincidence. So why Steve?”  
“Do I get caffeine if I answer?”  
“Maybe if you answer truthfully,” she countered, the twinkle of mischief returning to her eye.  
Tony looked thoughtful for a moment, as if seriously considering her. Then he became lost to his own thoughts, sappy smile on his face. Absently, he picked up his cup and drank deeply from it again, breaking himself out of his internal reverie. He swallowed with a grimace, holding the cup out to Natasha.  
“Take it away from me before I take another sip.”  
Natasha obliged, taking the cup and draining it herself, before throwing the cup into a bin across the room.  
“Nice shot.”  
“Thanks, now quit avoiding the subject.”  
“Okay, okay,” he said somewhat tersely, before softening, “it’s just. He’s Steve, y’know. I don’t know if I can explain it. I mean, have you ever had Clint explain why he loves Coulson?”  
Tony pulled out his phone, setting up the last details for his date. It took all of five minutes to realise Natasha hadn’t said a word. He glanced up, catching sight of the largest grin he’s ever seen the assassin wear. And when it was coupled with a look of complete shock, well that wouldn’t bode well for Tony. He quickly backtracked what he said last, trying to find a reason for her shock.  
“Shit, no, no, no. I did not mean it like that. I meant- fuck, how do I explain this? Like it’s just hard to explain, okay? Can we drop this now?”  
“Of course, slept together yet?”  
If Tony was still drinking the foul concoction this establishment had the nerve to call coffee, he would have spat it out in surprise at the blatancy of her question.  
“What? No, why would you even ask that? We’ve barely been on one date. No,” Tony said defensively.  
“Alright, just asking. Why not?”  
Tony shuffled in his seat, fingers tapping out an unknown rhythm against the arm of the chair.  
“I, I wanna do this right. I don’t want to, to fuck this up. So I need your help?”  
“My help?” Natasha asked, genuinely confused which was a rare state.  
“Yes, don’t let me fuck things up. Please. I can’t.”  
His tone is pleading, desperation of a man imagining all the worst-case-scenarios lingering in his eyes.  
“I’ll help.”  
“Thank you. So got the information you wanted?”  
“All of it and more,” Natasha smiled back.  
“Are we done sharing or do you want to braid my hair and discuss how we lost our virginities?”  
“Your hair is too short to braid,” Natasha said seriously, “but my first time was when I was-“  
“Oh look at the time, I’ve gotta go make coffee.”

 

Finally it was time, both men dressed casually, a little more incognito than they were used to but it was needed and well-deserved tonight. They took a cab to the theatre, and watched the show. Tony bought them both programmes and CDs. When they burst through the exit of the theatre, Tony and Steve hand in hand, they were belting out lines of their favourite songs. “  
_There’s been some confusion for you see, my roommate is…”_ they sang together in perfect harmony  
“ _Unusually and exceedingly peculiar and altogether quite impossible to describe,_ ” Steve sang, spinning Tony around.  
“ _Blonde_ ” Tony said, utterly serious, admiring Steve’s golden hair.  
“ _What is this feeling, so sudden and new?”_  
_“I felt the moment I laid eyes on you.”_  
“My pulse is rushing.”  
“My head is reeling.”  
“My face is flushing.”  
“What is this feeling?” they sang in tandem, “ _fervid as a flame. Does it have a name? Yeeeess. Loathing! Unadulterated loathing._ ”  
_“For your face,”_ Steve laughed, wiping a smudge of grease away from Tony’s hairline.  
“ _Your voice,_ ” Tony kissed the hollow of Steve’s throat.  
“ _Your clothing,”_ Steve glared daggers at Tony’s odd socks, one dotted in Captain America shields, the other with Iron Man masks.  
“ _Let’s just say I LOATHE IT ALL!”_ They sang at the top of their voices, Tony throwing up his hands for emphasis, both falling into laughter.  
Suddenly Tony smacked Steve lightly in the chest, grinning up at him after scanning the audience that had gathered around them. Several were holding up smart phones (Tony was proud to note almost all of them were the latest Stark Model).  
“Hope you are ready to be YouTube famous, Cap?”  
A lovely shade of beetroot was climbing up Steve’s neck, the tips of his ears almost luminous from his blush.  
“Let’s go.”  
Steve grabbed Tony’s hands and they ran together through the streets of New York.

 

“Stop, Steve, Stop. I can’t… I need to catch my breath.”  
They stopped down an alley, grinning like idiots. Tony was leaning over, propped against a wall and grasping his knees, sucking in breath between laughs.  
“Shall… shall we go get dinner?” Tony gasped.  
They wandered through the streets, hand in hand, eventually reaching Isabelle’s. They took their reserved seats, tucked away at the back of the restaurant. A girl with bright blue hair came up to them.  
“Hiya, I’m Sam. I’ll be your waitress. Can I get you any drinks?” she said cheerfully.  
Tony’s fingers twitched against the red checked tablecloth.  
“Two milkshakes, one chocolate and one strawberry please,” Steve replied.  
“Coming right up,” she grinned and headed into the kitchen.  
“I hope you don’t mind,” Steve said earnestly, “I just wanted to try them.”  
Tony knew what Steve was doing, and he was grateful. Hard to maintain sobriety when meals are expected to have alcohol with them. The milkshakes were set down in front of them within minutes. Steve pushed forward the chocolate, towards Tony.  
“C’mon, I know it’s your favourite.”  
Tony grinned at him, and gladly accepted the milkshake. They sat in silence for a minute or two, just drinking. But Tony was rarely silent for so long.  
“So, is this your first date since, what 1944, ‘45?”  
Tony internally cringed and silently curses. Great opener right there, remind the man that he hasn’t been on a date in over fifty years, kudos Tony, great work. But Steve considered for a moment.  
“ ’43 I think, but it was a double that Bucky dragged me to. I don’t think the dame, err the girl wanted to be there.”  
“She missed out,” Tony said mostly to himself, missing the way Steve smiled, “what was Bucky like?”  
Over the years Tony had heard the occasional tale of Bucky or he featured in war stories but he never heard what they were like together as kids. And it somewhat shocked Tony that he actually wanted to know.  
“It was actually thanks to Bucky that I found this place. We were about thirteen at the time and I was recently out of hospital. Some guys were chasing us and so we ran until we couldn’t. Ducked down an alleyway and found this place. Bucky, he looked after me.”  
“How did the two of you meet? I mean you just seem so…”  
“Different?” Steve offered with a smile.  
“Well, yeah.”  
“We are I guess. We met at school. I was getting into a fight, five guys against just me. Bucky jumped in to help even the odds. He never told me not to fight back, never once told me to just give up. We got beaten bloody but he still helped me home.”  
“Good guy, seemed to really care about you, right from the off.”  
Steve smiled wistfully, “All the strength I could wish for and I still couldn’t protect him like he always did for me.”  
Tony dragged his chair round to Steve’s side of the table, he placed his hand over Steve’s clenched fist.  
“It wasn’t your fault Steve.”  
He meant it, it couldn’t have been Steve’s fault. He’d read all the reports, heard every single one of his father’s stories, all of Aunt Peggy’s tales. It didn’t stop the words from not feeling like nearly enough. Steve’s voice was tight, his smile watery, and his eyes were staring at a faraway memory. With a clear of his throat and a blink, Steve changed the subject.  
“So how did you meet Colonel Rhodes and Miss Potts?”  
Tony leapt at new topic like a starving man on a scrap of bread.  
“I met Rhodey in college, we were roommates. I might have blown up our room on the first day. And the second day. And the fifth.”  
Steve burst into laughter.  
“How on earth did you manage that?”  
“Dummy,” Tony said simply, as if that explained everything. Maybe it did because Steve just nodded, still smiling.  
“Were you building him at the time?”  
“Yeah,” Tony laughed.  
For some reason it gave him a warm fuzzy glow when Steve called Dummy a ‘him’. Tony always did but Pepper and Rhodey gave him weird looks for it. It wasn’t strange to personify his machines. Especially Dummy. Dummy was his first born after all.  
“I met Pepper way back when. There had been a mistake in the accounts, and it was a very big mistake. Could have lost us a lot of money. But Pepper caught it and brought it to my attention. Not before forcing her way past my bodyguards and pepper spraying them in the process.”  
Steve burst out laughing, washing away all trace of sadness to Tony’s relief. He watched as Steve tried to regain himself, shoulders shaking and hand covering his mouth as he tried to stifle the noise. Tony shuffled his chair back round, not releasing Steve’s hand. He had unclenched his fist, palm held upwards and fingers squeezing Tony’s hand every now and then.  
“Is that why you call her ‘Pepper’?”  
Tony looked at him confused, “What, no? Because of her freckles and hair of course,” Tony said, his tone indicating it was clearly obvious.  
“Of course, how could I not have realised?” he jested sardonically.  
“I guess not everyone can be a genius like me,” Tony sighed melodramatically.  
“Nor can they be as modest,” Steve replied, straight-faced.  
“Exactly.”  
They fell into easy conversation after that, jokes flying back and forth. Halfway through a story of a grand MIT prank that went horribly wrong, Steve’s stomach growled painfully obviously. As if on cue, Sam walked up.  
“So what can I get ya?”  
“We haven’t even looked at the menu yet. Sorry,” Tony replied to her with a smile.  
Steve looked embarrassed as Tony just carried on confidently. Part of Steve wished he had that level of self-confidence but the other (far more obvious and much larger) part knew Tony faked it all. Wearing his masks high as he always did when in public.  
“I can give you a few more minutes,” she offered politely, backing away slightly.  
“No need for that, what do you recommend?”  
“Well everything is-“  
“Everything it is then.”  
“And for you?” she asked Steve, a cheeky grin on her face.  
Tony mirrored this grin, taking a sip of milkshake to hide it (and failing).  
“He’ll have the same,” Tony interjected before Steve could respond.  
Sam was struggling to hold in her laughter, pursing her lips to try and control it.  
“I’ll, I’ll let the kitchen know. It might, might be a while.”  
“Sure, no problem. Just send it out as and when it’s ready,” Tony said genially.

 

After cheese and spinach ravioli, chicken and sweetcorn pizza, lasagne, gnocchi, and a very delicious serving of tagliatelle carbonara, Steve could honestly say he was stuffed. Couldn’t eat another bite. And while he had been eating his five course meal, Tony had been pushing spaghetti Bolognese round his plate, barely eaten a mouthful.  
“What’s wrong?” Steve asked gently, “Are you okay?”  
“Yeah, just not hungry,” Tony replied absently, still twirling spaghetti around on his fork.  
“Nope, not buying it. What’s wrong?”  
Tony finally ate a mouthful of spaghetti, still pondering whatever was on his mind. Steve was still worried, growing concerned that he’d somehow messed up, committed a social faux pas that didn’t exist in the forties.  
“Did I do something?”  
Tony looked up from his plate, confusion etched in the lines of his face.  
“No, why?”  
“Well we’ve been sat in silence for ten minutes while you slowly destroy a Bolognese.”  
“Oh. Oh that. I was just thinking.”  
“About?” Steve prompted gently.  
“Why me?” Tony said, voice sotto voce and barely audible.  
Steve could see the underlying tones of nervousness, fingers unable to keep still, the aborted movements of hands that wanted to run through his hair, a tongue that kept flicking out to lick lips, teeth that bit down hard on an abused lower lip. Steve didn’t even want to go for ignorance, pretend he didn’t know what Tony meant.  
“You mean beyond your generous spirit, and the way you tried to hide it, your inventive imagination, and the family you created from it, your passion for everything you do, and the way you inspire those around you, your love of coffee, and your caffeine addiction, and your kindness, and your tenacity, and you. Beyond all of that?”  
Tony had steadily turned a brighter red, a small smile playing about his lips as he steadfastly refused to meet Steve’s eyes.  
“Yeah, beyond that.”  
“I wanted better access to Dummy,” Steve replied straight-faced, “he is the love of my life.”  
“I would set the two of you up, but he is currently dating the blender.”  
At Steve’s curious look, Tony shook his head.  
“Don’t ask. Just. Don’t ask. Trying to explain the birds and the bees to a blender and a robotic lab assistant is quite possibly the most painful experience I have ever had.”  
Steve was laughing behind his empty milkshake glass. The mental image was too comical, Tony standing with a blackboard, Dummy wearing the dunce hat and the blender that actually lacked any form of AI (so far) just left in the kitchen unit of the workshop.  
“Okay, so why me?” Steve asked inquisitively, causing Tony to groan, “Oh come _on_ , I answered.”  
“Fine,” Tony said reluctantly, dropping his gaze, “just, well, you know. I… You… you’ve always kept me grounded… You stop me floating away or sinking too deep. Even in the beginning. You told it to me straight. I’ve never had someone do that, who just didn’t care about my money or power, or was scared to disrespect me. Pepper and Rhodey _eventually_ became like that but Pepper was paid for so many years to keep certain opinions to herself, and Rhodey. Well initially I think he was just curious about the ‘Stark Kid’. They both lied to me at some point. But you. Even if you didn’t like me, you never lied to me. Perhaps it was because of that. I trust them enough but I can’t 100%. But you,” he said, dragging his gaze from his clasped hands and risking a glance at Steve. Steve looked awestruck, eyes full of something Tony had always struggled to place, “You I can trust. You’ve lied to me, yes, but never about me. You’ve never hid the truth because it was easier… and your butt.”  
“My butt? My butt what?” Steve chuckled, as Tony broke the tone to something lighter.  
“Why I like you. It’s a very nice butt,” Tony said innocently.  
They laughed, Tony still eating slowly. Sam approached the table.  
“Can I get you guys anything else?”  
“Just the bill thanks. And can you bag the leftovers and have it delivered here, thanks.”  
He handed her a slip of paper with an address scrawled across. Steve cocked his head, desperate to ask where Tony was having the leftovers taken. Usually they were taken back to the tower to abate the appetites of a God, a super soldier with a high speed metabolism, a hulk, and an archer who miraculously never put on weight. Natasha was the only resident of the tower with a normal eating pattern. Coulson seemed to live off of doughnuts and whatever he could swipe from Clint. Sam returned with the bill, tucked into a small leather folder. Tony paid, tipping what Steve could easily see was over 20%.  
“She’s saving for college,” Tony answered Steve’s look.  
“How-?”  
“I follow her on tumblr.”  
“You? You have tumblr?”  
“Yup,” Tony said, flicking out his phone.  
He brought it under Steve’s nose, showing a very well designed, if over the top blog. Steve couldn’t help the sappy smile at Tony’s url. StarkRavingDummy. His blog consisted almost entirely of reblogged posts, his profile picture was one of the ones from the various publicity stunts, easily available on Google Images. Tony tapped a few times and the girl’s image showed as a profile picture. As Steve browsed her blog, Tony closed the folder and handed it back to Sam. She made it to the kitchen door, it swinging behind her as she grabbed the next tray of food. On her return, the (almost empty now) restaurant turned at her shriek. She ran over to Tony, who was trying to force Steve to the door. She was crying, sobbing, barely able to get the words out.  
“Can I-“ she tried to ask through broken sobs, “can I hug you?”  
Tony pushed Steve forwards.  
“Hug him, he gives good hugs.”  
Steve opened his arms obligingly, the girl sobbing into his chest. Once she calmed down a little, hiccups interrupting her speech every now and then.  
“Thank you *hic* thank you so much Mr Stark. I ca-*hic*-can go to College now. Thank you.”  
Slight mascara trails ran down her face.  
“Jesus Tony, how much did you give her?” Steve asked in a hushed undertone.  
“Enough,” Tony said casually, before turning to Sam, “thanks for the years of entertainment. Love your gifs. Say hi to Ami for me.”  
“I will, she’s a massive fan… but… how did you know? my gifs? Oh my god, you have-“  
“Don’t say it. Don’t even think it.”  
She gave him a knowing smile, sly.  
“Thank you so much Mr Stark, and Captain America sir, Miss Gaudio says she would love to see you again for a moment. If you don’t mind.”

 

Isabelle Gaudio, the manageress of Isabelle’s (funnily enough), remembered Steve from over half a century ago. She was a tiny lady, white hair pulled out of her face in a neat pony tail and laughter lines deep in her skin. Her eyes were a startling green, bright and deep like grass after spring rain. She shook Steve’s hand and he grinned down at her.  
“Must be strange for you. Everything changed. But I am glad to see you winning the fights now.”  
She still had traces of an Italian accent, a soft lilt in her voice that reminded Tony of the better parts of his childhood. She and Steve were chatting, reminiscing over all the times she hid him from bullies in the kitchen or sneaked him and Bucky leftovers at the end of her waitressing shift. Her father had found out once and yelled but she had stopped him. He had named the restaurant after her so she clearly meant a lot to him. Familial love, a notably foreign concept in the list of Tony’s experiences. He shook her hand.  
“Grazie, grazie per esservi presi cura di lui. Dimmi, che cosa era Steve come da bambino?”  
“Feisty. Un vero combattente. Un bambino dolce però.”  
“Davvero? Non è cambiato molto, allora.”  
“Lui ha. Lui è felice ora. Grazie per aver reso farlo sorridere.”  
She smiled, took his face in her hands and kissed both cheeks. She did the same to Steve, whispering something in his ear, causing a look of determination and a firm nod when he pulled away. A buzz from Tony’s phone alerted him that Happy had dropped the car off.  
“Il cibo era delizioso. Mi dispiace, ma dobbiamo proprio andare.”  
They climbed into the car, Tony in the driver’s seat. Steve was grinning like a loon at him.  
“This was really amazing Tony, no one’s ever…“  
Words wouldn’t cut it. Steve took Tony’s hand, pressing a light kiss to the palm, causing a sigh of contentment and relief to escape the brunet. He kissed up Tony’s arm, across his neck, and finally against his lips. Tony entwined his fingers in Steve’s, other hand against the back of Steve’s neck, fingers rubbing in lazy circles at the nape. Tony hummed into the kiss and pushed back, Steve opened his mouth slightly at the pressure, a groan escaping him. Tony swung himself over Steve, straddling him and pressing soft kisses to his neck. Steve pulled away for a moment, staring into warm chocolate eyes. He was pretty sure what he saw in them convinced him to do what he did next.  
“Tony, I think… No I know, I love you.”  
Steve had been expecting to be brushed off, a sarcastic remark or disbelieving comment to stop him getting too close. He’d been hoping for a reply in kind, but knew that was unlikely. He did not expect the full 87 seconds of total silence, Tony’s lips still against his neck. His entire body had stilled against Steve’s, not even a twitch of his fingers. The silence finally broke as Tony began peppering Steve in kisses, murmuring between each one.  
“Anch'io.”  
Kiss.  
“Ti amo.”  
Kiss.  
“Ti amo anch'io.”  
Steve might not understand Italian but he understood what Tony was saying in that moment. Tony met his eyes, full of vulnerability and warmth and amazement. Steve leant forward, capturing Tony’s neck with his lips, sucking and biting and licking until he had the genius writhing in his lap. Tony was doing his best in turn to leave Steve with an impressive hickey. Tony’s eyes were blown, cheeks a burning red, and he was panting. Steve was pretty sure he mirrored this, the sudden tightness of his jeans evidence of his arousal. He could feel Tony against him, Steve’s fingers itching to stroke, to touch. Tony was the first to pull away, though it was with reluctance. His whole body was vibrating with need.  
“Slow,” he said breathlessly, “we need to…”  
Steve leant forward and kissed Tony’s lips, seeing the way Tony’s eyes dilated further before hiding behind closed eyelids. When he next pulled away, Tony’s lips were red, and he was struggling to focus on anything other than Steve and Steve’s hands and his face and oh god his lips. No, wait. No.  
“Steve, need to stop. We are not having our first time in a car, in the middle of a parking lot, in the early hours of the morning. I want to do this right.”  
Half-heartedly, Steve stopped. Tony flopped back into the driver’s seat. He closed his eyes, still panting slightly. After a few minutes, Tony turned on the motor and drove off, trying very hard to keep his eyes on the road and his hands off Steve.

 

“HEY GUYS, YOU’RE NOW YOUTUBE FAMOUS.”  
Clint’s exuberant greeting caught them off guard as they entered the communal floor of the tower. The rest of the team were waiting for them in the corridor. Jarvis, the traitor, had forced them to come here before letting them off on any other floor.  
“Greeeeat,” Tony rolled his eyes.  
“You were actually really good and the song was hilari- ARE THOSE HICKEYS?”  
Both men’s hands jumped to their necks, sharing matching looks of embarrassment. Natasha was eyeing them both curiously. A smile spread across her face, causing her to take pity.  
“Alright boys, it’s way past your bed time. Coulson,” Coulson looked up from his phone, “if you could please escort Clint to bed. Banner, Thor, rooms now.”  
She ushered the boys from the room, before giving Steve a look, a look that said ‘congratulations on the “I love you” ’. How she managed to say everything and nothing with a look would always be a mystery to Steve. She patted Tony on the shoulder before leaving as well. Tony turned to Steve.  
“So, may I walk you to your door?”  
Tony offered an arm to Steve, who accepted gladly. The walk was over far too soon for the both of them. Steve pressed Tony against the wall, looming over him. He bent down, trying to stifle a smile as he realised Tony was standing on his tip toes to reach him. He didn’t even seem to notice. A soft chaste goodnight kiss. That is what Steve intended. Somehow it felt like so much more. Like promises and futures and butterflies in stomachs. It felt like love. It felt natural when Tony just absently followed Steve into his room being led as he clung to Steve's hand, natural when Steve pulled him down onto the bed and curled around him protectively. Natural when both heads fell onto soft pillows.  
“Do you ever consider that we suck at going slow?” Tony mused in the darkness.  
Steve smiled at Tony.  
“Well as perhaps the world’s greatest authority on waiting too long, let’s not. I’d rather have this now,” Steve whispered into Tony’s hair.  
“Sorry,” Tony responded, body taut as if anticipating a strike.  
“Don’t apologise, you are worth the wait.”  
Tony snuggled in closer to Steve, head tucked under his chin.  
“Ti amo Steve.”  
“I love you too, Tony.”  
“Good because I’m not setting you up with Dummy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Song Tony and Steve sing on the way out of Wicked: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Onk6a6qGHI
> 
> Also, I use Google Translate for any non-english language in my fic so please if anything is wrong please comment the correction below, I really don't want to butcher other languages.


	18. Playing Doctor

# Chapter 18 – Playing doctor.

No one brought it up, no one was stupid enough to comment at the way Tony grinned the next morning or the way Steve’s shoulders weren’t as tense or the way they moved around each other with ease, every touch purposeful. A hand on the small of the back or leaning against the other one or grabbing the others wrist to steal some of their food. It was so sweet it was sickly and Clint made gagging noises every time he left a room with the two of them in. The couple didn’t notice when Bruce unceremoniously dumped a large quantity of twenty dollar bills in front of Coulson. Nor did they notice when Jane and Darcy turned up for a ‘casual visit’ and Darcy squealed at the sight of them. The ‘Couple Bubble’ Jane called it and soon sunk into hers with Thor. It took another half-assed invasion from Loki to draw them out of it.

 

They headed downtown, clearing up after Loki’s latest attempt. He had clearly been watching Lord of the Rings or something because he had decided an Army of Orcs was the way to go.  
“Can’t we just Mount Doom the fucker’s Staff?”  
“I’m ‘fraid not, he’s not letting go of that staff any time soon.”  
“I guess calling you Legolas is even more appropriate right now. So Legolas, what do your elf eyes see?”  
“They’re taking the Hobbits to Isengard,” Clint replied with a laugh in his voice.  
“Focus, they have civilians trapped on the lower floors of that building. Nat, evacuate, Barton provide her cover, Thor and Iron Man are on air support, I’ll deal with perimeter. Hulk is going after the ‘puny god’.”  
With that they took off for their respective roles. Iron Man got a few good shots in at Loki, mainly in bitterness for the whole made-him-a-kid thing, before the Hulk grabbed him from the air; throwing him around like a tennis ball. They took him down easily enough, killed off the last of the Orcs. Loki was in captivity soon enough and the Avengers were soon milling about, waiting for orders or being told to clean up or just to be given something to do. Tony listed towards Steve. And that was when it happened. Loki twisted in the guards grip, launching a small disc that caught on Steve’s armour, before disappearing. Tony was running flat out for Steve desperate to grab the device before whatever terrible plan Loki had concocted set off. Then the device sprayed a small amount of gas right into Steve’s face. He choked and stumbled forward slightly, before holding out a hand to calm the panicked Tony fumbling at his side. Then he sneezed and everyone froze. Captain America did not sneeze. His eyes grew alarmed for a second then he shook his head.  
“I’m fine, don’t worry.”  
Then he sneezed again. Tony frowned, concern hidden by the visor.  
“You are going home right now.”  
Tony grabbed Steve around the waist and flew them straight back to the tower. The comm chirped in his ear.  
“What about Fury? The debrief?”  
“Screw that. Steve just sneezed. STEVE just SNEEZED. TWICE. DID YOU MISS THAT? I’ll give you a moment to appreciate what means. So tell Fury he can fuck off.”  
“No thanks, I really don’t fancy going missing without a trace. Keep us updated.”  
“I always do.”  
“You really don’t.”  
“Well I will this time.”

 

By the time they landed back at the tower Steve had begun shivering and coughing. It was a deep jarring cough that shook Tony’s bones.  
“Bed. Now.”  
“I’m fine,” Steve mumbled, words slurring.  
Steve was fucking slurring. Tony marched him into Steve’s room, pushed him down onto the bed and that was even more worrying that Steve wasn’t fighting this. Tony stripped him of his suit, casting a worried glance at the flush across Steve’s chest and face and the sheen of sweat across all of his skin. He pulled off his armour, tugging at the emergency releases – no way was he going to the disassembling pad when Steve was like this – and running the back of his hand across Steve’s forehead. It was hot and clammy. Tony ran to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and soaking it in cold water. He folded it onto Steve’s forehead, whispering reassurances in his ear.  
“I know you don’t like cold water Steve but this will help you feel better. Jarvis what do I do? What is he ill with? What’s his temperature?”  
“Sir, you need to measure his temperature with the thermometer in the first aid kit in the top drawer of the nightstand. I also need to be told his symptoms as I have not been configured to scan Captain Rogers. I will be able to conduct the appropriate scans within half an hour. Then I can advise you on possible actions.”  
Tony was pulling out the first aid kit halfway through Jarvis’ explanation. He found the electronic thermometer and stuck it in Steve’s mouth under his tongue. It beeped, displaying a temperature of 103.4 Fahrenheit.  
“Okay Jarvis, that’s a 103.4 temp and rising so fever, shivers, sweating, and probably fatigue beyond usual levels.”  
It took a few moments then Jarvis came back with an answer.  
“The most likely result is that Captain Rogers has caught the flu sir. However his symptoms are increasing drastically and his temperature is spiking, neither displaying characteristics of any known strain of influenza. You need to reduce his temperature immediately.”  
“Steve, look at me, Steve,” Tony said worriedly, tapping Steve’s cheek to gain his focus, “I need to get you into a cold shower. You won’t be in any harm, Jarvis will be monitoring your vitals and temperature. I’ll be right there with you. It won’t be for long, we just need to get your temperature down. Jarvis, set the shower to whatever temperature will help without causing Steve a panic attack, and set up negative air pressure until we figure out what the fuck this thing is because it sure as hell isn’t something from earth. Decontaminate the rest of the apartment.”  
He dragged up Steve, paying close attention to the way Steve was swaying and the fact he now seemed barely aware of Tony’s presence. He steered him into the shower, the spray already going lightly. Tony pushed Steve in, letting him sit on the floor as Tony climbed in fully clothed after him. He carefully sponged down Steve, trying to block as much of the spray from his face as possible while choking back his own fear. Now was not the time to have flashbacks and panic attacks. He carefully wiped across Steve’s body, light touches taking some of the heat from the skin. He placed the thermometer back under Steve’s tongue and checked it the instant it beeped.  
“103.1, still not good enough but I don’t want to keep you in water. Jarvis kill the water.”  
The water stopped immediately, a few drops hitting the white tiles.  
“Crap, I forgot to take off your- urm undergarments. Need to get you changed.”  
He wrapped several fluffy white towels around Steve’s shoulders and waist, before grabbing a final one to dry his hair with. Steve would probably complain that was excessive and a waste to wash them all if he was healthy but right now Tony did not care. Once Steve was suitably dry, Tony dragged him back to the bed. Looking away, if not to preserve Steve’s dignity then to preserve his own sanity, he changed Steve’s boxers. He did not want to see _that_ unless Steve wanted him to, and he was definitely hoping it would at least be a bit more romantic than under semi-conscious conditions. He dressed him in his typical slacks and paisley shirt. Tony was still soaking so he pulled off the undersuit and pulled on a pair of Steve’s sweatpants and a white t-shirt with a somewhat obnoxious display of ‘I heart NYC’. Tony looked at the shirt in disgust.  
“Steve, you with me?”  
“Tony?”  
“Yeah Steve, it’s me. How are you feeling?”  
“Bad,” he huffed out.  
Tony bit back a laugh at the long suffering sigh.  
“We’ll get you sorted. Until then, as you always say to me, you need to eat something. I’m going to order something to eat, anything you particularly want? I mean you are getting soup but what kind?”  
“Don’t order Tony, I’ll make something.”  
Steve began struggling out of bed, Tony just pushed him back one handed.  
“Cap, listen. You have been struck down by something powerful. I have essentially quarantined this room so that we don’t cause a massive epidemic of some kind of Asgardian superbug. Which means we can’t leave this room. So I am ordering in, they will deliver to outside your bedroom door and because of the negative airflow here it should be okay for me to grab whatever we order, so I will ask you again. What kind of soup do you want?”  
Steve huffed another massive sigh and then broke into a coughing fit that had Tony grabbing the empty glass from the nightstand and filling it with water from the bathroom tap.  
“Sip this slowly Cap, I can’t have you dehydrated.”  
Tony pulled out his phone and began ordering every kind of soup imaginable, plus enough caffeine to keep him awake for about nine days straight.  
“Sir, Captain Rogers’ vitals are destabilising. His breathing is becoming erratic and his temperature is spiking.”  
“Steve, hey Steve. Stay with me. Can you hear me? Jarvis turn on the air con, lower room temp to 15 celcius.”  
Steve was burning up. Tony ran to pull the covers off Steve, grabbing the washcloth and soaking it under the tap again and placing it over Steve’s eyes.  
“Steve can you hear me?”  
A groan but no response. His eyes wouldn’t even open.  
“Jarvis, get Dummy to grab an ice pack from the freezer and leave it outside the door.”  
“Yes sir.”

 

A few minutes later Tony opened the door a crack and grabbed the ice pack and the many many cartons of soup and cans of energy drink and one lone Starbucks. With an ice pack on his head, Steve managed to regain consciousness long enough to eat (drink?) the chicken, the tomato, and the minestrone soups. Tony was glad for that. He downed six cans of red bull and the cup of coffee, hands shaking from the caffeine as he finally remembered to type out a message to the Avengers.  
_Steve ill, high temp, shivers, fatigue. He even let me order in. I’ve quarantined the room, negative air flow, don’t enter.  
_ It took a couple of minutes for Tony to get a response. Natasha replied first.  
_You’ve quarantined? If it’s strong enough to affect Steve, it could kill you Tony. Get out of there.  
_ Tony frowned, yeah like he hadn’t figured that out already. The arc reactor already made him more prone to infections and with diminished lung capacity he doubt he would survive if he had one of Steve’s coughing fits.  
_I’m already exposed, no point.  
_ The next reply came a hell of a lot quicker.  
_You took off the fucking suit, are you sure you are a genius? Because you act like a moron a lot of the time.  
_ He had to agree with that.  
_Being ill isn’t fun for Steve, I couldn’t leave him like that and the Iron Man suit is hardly practical.  
_ They couldn’t argue with that. Several texts followed, one from Clint, one from Nat, one from Bruce.  
_You are so whipped Stark._  
Just look after yourself too Tony.  
Make sure you stay hydrated and rested. BOTH OF YOU.  
Tony couldn’t help but grin.  
“Tony,” Steve coughed.  
“Yeah Steve.”  
“Aren’t you tired?”  
“I’ve had like two red bulls, I’ll be up for a while,” Tony muttered, casting a glance to the empty cans tossed carelessly on a sideboard.   
“You need to sleep Tony,” Steve said, even while sick his tone was disapproving.  
“Noooo,” he replied, drawing out the vowel, “I need to look after you.”  
“If I’m worrying about you I won’t get better.”  
“That sounds like you are making the conscious decision to be stubborn.”  
“Just get your ass over here and sleep.”  
Tony crawled obligingly onto the bed. His hand felt Steve’s pulse, slightly elevated. Then moved his hand to his forehead, his temperature had gone waaay down. Maybe his fever broke, was that a thing? Did that happen? Steve smiled lazily at him and his eyes closed, as Tony carded his hand through Steve’s sweat-dampened hair. Tony, wide awake from caffeine, just lay next to him tracing light patterns across his chest and watching every movement for any sigh of distress; and no that wasn’t embarrassing at all.

 

A few hours later everyone was thumping on the door outside. Tony knocked back through the door, hissing through the key hole (the only room in the entire tower that had an actual key).  
“Hey, what part of quarantine don’t you get?” Tony hissed angrily.  
“The part where you take off the suit, the thing that might have protected you from illness you idiot,” Nat hissed back.  
“Our shield brother has caught Asgardian influenza. We are most fortunate in that it seems to be a lesser version of it. However, Man of Iron with your health issues it is highly likely you will die should you contract it. Asgardians are usually over it within two or three days, but we have no estimate for Midgardians, especially one with the Captain’s unique healing capabilities.”  
“He seems to be getting better, his temperature has reduced, he’s not sweating as much. I’ve had him drink more, and he ate or drank soup. He’s stopped shivering and has been sleeping soundly for the past four hours. I will deal with whatever consequences that might occur for me but I don’t and never will regret my decision. Because the world needs Captain America more than Iron Man, and you need Steve more than you need me. But right now, Steve needed Tony more than Iron Man. Iron Man couldn’t do shit. But Tony could at least be of some use,” he could hear the anger in his voice, every whispered shout silencing whatever protest the occupants on the other side of the door had.  
“Okay Tony, okay. But look after yourself too. We need you just as much as Steve, and Steve will always need Tony. Always. Don’t forget that.”  
Tony sneezed, once then twice then three times in quick succession. He could hear the others flinch. Tony couldn’t help but grin.  
“Clint, you know I’m allergic to that perfume of yours.”  
“Oh come on, a) it’s cologne, b) it’s Coulson’s favourite and c) there is a door between us.” “I have a sensitive nose.” Tony glanced over to the bed, noticing Steve waking up.  
“Gotta go, Steve’s waking.” Steve propped himself up on his elbows, looking very confused at Tony crouched by the keyhole.  
“Tony?”  
“Yeah Steve?”  
“What are you doing down there?”  
“Nothing, noth- _achoo_ ,” Tony sneezed.  
He sniffled a little, wiggling his nose in a way Steve found adorably cute. Then he frowned.  
“Tony, you aren’t ill are you? Oh no, geez, you didn’t catch? Oh my god no, tell me you didn’t catch this bug.”  
“Steve, Steve. Calm down I’m fine. Just Clint’s cologne, I’m allergic to it. That’s all.”  
Steve gave him a look that felt like he was being x-rayed.  
“Sleep,” he ordered and Tony fell back onto the bed.  
Steve’s fingers ghosted against his neck, hand reaching up to feel his forehead.  
“You don’t feel warm, but I’ll check again in an hour or two.”  
“Look Steve, you are barely well yourself. You worry too much. Stop mother-henning me. I. am. Fine.”  
Even so, with the caffeine wearing off, Tony settled onto the bed; not daring to crawl under the covers. It felt too intimate this time. He didn’t know why. He had slept with Steve many times. A couple of those in an actual bed. There was that one time when he was ill. And that other time when he had been drugged. Although both of those weren’t his choice and one of those was his own bed so it was fine. But there was also that other time he was ill. But they were kind of dating by that point. Oh wait, he had fallen asleep in Steve’s bed, but he could not be held accountable for his actions when sleepwalking. While thinking these thoughts, Tony fell asleep slowly, constantly jerking awake every time Steve so much as twitched. Once Steve was asleep, then and only then did Tony allow himself to relax.

 

“Tony?”  
No response, just a half open mouth and glazed over eyes.  
“Again? Tony, come on. What are you even stressed about?”  
Not expecting a response, Steve sat up. He had been awoken by the bed shifting under him as Tony got to his feet. Tony was by Steve’s side of the bed, thermometer in hand. Steve opened his mouth to ask yet another question, and Tony popped it in his mouth. He waited until the beep and smiled at the number. He showed Steve as 99.2F flashed on the screen. Tony picked up the glass and filled it up again, placing it in Steve’s hand. He nudged it, urging Steve to drink. Once Steve took a sip, Tony wandered back into the bathroom and returned with a fresh moistened washcloth. He placed it on Steve’s forehead and pushed him back into bed. Tony walked over to the door, leaning heavily against it. His eyes fluttered shut and he slid down the door. Steve got up, dragged a blanket off the bed and sat down next to him. He wrapped the blanket around them both and wrapped his arm around Tony.  
“You worry too much,” he murmured into Tony’s hair.

 

Steve expected Tony to wake up flustered and confused. He wasn’t prepared for how flustered and confused.  
“Why on EARTH were you asleep on the floor? You could have made yourself worse. What kind of IDIOT falls asleep on the floor?”  
Steve held back a chuckle and the natural reply of ‘you started it’, realising that Tony was mad since it was about the seventh time Tony had run his hands through his hair in the last two minutes. It was sticking up all over the place, looking like he had stuck his finger in an electric socket.  
“Look, I’m fine. Take my temperature. And I want to take yours.”  
Tony grabbed the thermometer, wiped it down with an alcohol wipe, and stuck it in Steve’s mouth. 98.5F. Tony sighed in relief.  
“I think it’s passed.”  
Steve wiped it down with an alcohol wipe and looked at Tony until he opened his mouth begrudgingly. 99.8F, a tad higher than Steve would like but Tony seemed okay. Not showing any of the symptoms.  
“Seriously Cap, I’m pretty sure it was just the cologne. I’ll text Nat, get her to bring us more food. We’ll need to decontaminate your room and clothes, I’ll need to decontaminate the suit. We might just have to incinerate the clothes.”  
“Tony,” said Steve thoughtfully, “are you wearing my clothes?”  
Now that was undeniably hot, and no Steve should not be so turned on by Tony swathed in his clothes.  
“Sorry, I just. Well I was soaked after I got you in the shower and I couldn’t stay in wet clothes.”  
“You got me in the shower?”  
“Yeah, I guess by then you were really out of it. I needed to force your temperature down. Sorry I…”  
That was weird, Tony was blushing and not just a faint tinge blush but a full out beacon.  
“You did what?”  
“I changed your,” he waved his hand down Steve’s body, “I promise I didn’t look or anything.”  
He was blushing like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Or a teenager caught watching porn. Tony clasped both hands to his face, groaning.  
“Jarvis, tell Steve I didn’t look and don’t lie to him.”  
“Of course Sir. Captain Rogers, sir took the utmost care at preserving your modesty and virtue, and refused to look, or use any other method to take advantage of you.”  
Steve was laughing, loud and joyous and healthy.  
“Tony, geez I was never worried about that.”  
“Well, with my… reputation I wouldn’t blame you.”  
“Well I think I know you better than the papers do,” Steve smirked, “also you sleepwalked again.”  
“Oh?” Tony said disinterestedly.   
“Yeah, you took my temperature, made me drink, and placed a new washcloth on my head.”  
Tony just shrugged.  
“You were worried,” Steve said laughing, “you were worried about me.”  
Tony’s jaw was twitching, nerve going haywire. Then he snapped.  
“OF COURSE I WAS FUCKING WORRIED. YOU NEVER GET ILL AND THEN YOU GET ILL AND IT’S SOMETHING YOU COULD DIE FROM AND GOD, OH GOD YOU COULD HAVE DIED, YOU COULD HAVE DIED,” something pained flashed across his face then he spoke again in the faintest whisper as he sunk to his knees, “I can’t breathe. Steve! Steve! I can’t breathe!”  
Steve was next to him in a heartbeat.  
“Tony, did you just give yourself a panic attack?”  
Tony nodded, trying to suck in breath. Steve pulled him close, pulled Tony’s head to his chest.  
“Just listen Tony, focus on my breathing and heartbeat okay. I’m alive, you’re alive, and neither of us are going anywhere. Okay. We are both fine, just focus on my breathing and try to match it. Okay Tony, breathe with me.”  
He kept up the steady stream of words, soft and comforting until Tony hiccupped into his chest. Then a slightly hysterical giggle.  
“Why am I always the one having the nightmares and the anxiety issues?”  
“You think the rest of us don’t?”  
“Well, yeah.”  
“Tony, I can’t set foot in cold water. I struggle in winter when it gets too cold. Natasha has a fear of the dark, complete and total darkness. Barton always ends up in the air vents or up high. Bruce flinches whenever someone shouts and I don’t think it has to do with the Other Guy. And well, Thor never talks about his relationship with Loki. It’s gotten a little better but it still haunts him. Even Coulson flinches a little around sharp objects. We all have our baggage. We all have our fears. And I guarantee we have all had nightmares. Whenever people were in that entertainments room, watching a film with you. Well it wasn’t just you finding comfort in that.”  
Tony snuck his hand in Steve’s and just lay against him, his breath warm against Steve’s skin. Steve stroked up and down his back, feeling Tony stutter and press against him.  
“Tony, how long do we have to wait in quarantine?”  
“Until tomorrow. You are fine but you might still be carrying the bacteria or virus or whatever it is. Jarvis, set the shower to decontamination mode, and trigger the disinfection sequence once both of us are in the bathroom. That should help with the quarantine. Come on Steve, bathroom.”  
He dragged Steve into the bathroom as the shower ran, warmth steaming up the bathroom mirror. He pulled out a yellow plastic bag, grabbing all the used washcloths from the room and shoving them roughly in.  
“For our clothes. They need to be decontaminated as well.”  
Steve stripped off his shirt and trousers without an ounce of shyness. Tony kept his eyes fixed on the wall.  
“Tony, it’s fine. I don’t mind. Certainly not for you.”  
“But what about… taking it too fast? Because I’ll definitely take it too fast.”  
"I told you, world's greatest authority on waiting too long. I want this if you do."  
"I want you."   
Steve wrapped his arms around Tony from behind, pulling at the hem of his shirt. Tony lifted his arms up, letting Steve tug the shirt off him. His fingers then trailed down to the cord that kept the pants barely clinging to Tony’s hips. Steve chucked everything in the bag.  
“Underwear could be infected too,” he murmured into Tony’s neck.  
“When did you get so dirty Rog- uhhnn,” Tony broke off on a whimper as Steve grinded against him, pressing kisses into Tony’s neck.  
“Now don’t tell me you are all bark and no bite Stark?”  
“I didn’t want to- hnng- pressure you into something you didn’t- uuuh- want, I didn’t want to- hmm- go too fast and- oh god- and- you are really good at this- and I didn’t want to fuck this up.”  
Tony pulled Steve into the shower, water a relief against his sensitive skin. He kissed slow and carefully against Steve’s lips, almost as though waiting for him to pull away. When he didn’t the kiss was deepened, Tony’s tongue licking into Steve’s mouth with a groan. Everything slowed suddenly, Tony pulling back.  
"You're ill, rain-check?"  
"Absolutely," Steve grinned.  
“You okay?” and at Steve's nod, Tony resumed doing what people actually should do in showers, namely cleaning themselves.  
Tony led him out of the shower, grabbed yet more fluffy towels, the last of them, and bundled Steve up.  
“Jarvis, how long until the bedroom is complete sir?”  
“Thirty seconds more sir.”  
“Awesome, thanks Jarvis.”  
Tony grinned back at marshmallow Steve.  
“Hear that, almost done. Then we should be able to get you into bed.”  
“Tony, look I’m fine. I’m better. You need to stop worrying. The serum took care of it. Tony- wait a second, Tony you’re shaking. You idiot, you gave me all the towels.”  
Steve tied one around his waist and flung another over Tony’s shoulders.  
“Captain Rogers, your room has been decontaminated.”  
“Thank you Jarvis,” replied Steve, as always glancing at the ceiling.  
It made Tony smile without fail so he never made an effort to break himself of that habit. Steve frogmarched Tony to the bed and pushed him under the covers. Tony bounced on the bed towel falling away.  
“I think I rather like the sight of you naked on my bed.”  
“That’s good because at this rate you’ll be seeing this sight a lot.”  
Steve grinned as he curled around Tony.  
“Christ Stark, you are still cold.”  
Tony tried wriggling away but Captain just pulled him closer.  
“You’ll get ill if you don’t warm up so lie still.”  
And so Tony lay still(ish).  
"You're an idiot, but I love you."  
"Ti amo di più, Steve."

 

They both awoke to the alarm Tony had set up, signifying the end of Tony’s quarantine. Tony groaned, pulling the pillow over his head and mumbling something that sounded a bit like ‘five more minutes Jarvis’ He rolled over and fell back asleep, snoring ever so slightly. Steve watched him ardently for a moment before stretching and getting to his feet. He pulled on a soft cashmere sweater, the bright blue-grey one Tony bought him for his birthday. He also dragged out the black jeans that Tony always made some sexual remark about his ass in. Pulling on a pair of briefs, then tugging the jeans on. He turned to see if Tony stirred. Nothing. He probably should wake him.  
“Tony, the quarantines over, do you want to get breakfast?”  
“mmmf,” came the reply from the pillow.  
“What about checking on Dummy, You, and Butterfingers?”  
“Crap! I’m stealing more of your clothes.”  
He grabbed a shirt that was too big for him, a pair of shorts and was out the door, hopping as he pulled them on.

 

“Daddy’s back.”  
Dummy rolled over immediately, chirping and whirring excitedly.  
“Thanks for your help boy,” he patted the bot before full out hugging it, “thank you, I know you never leave the workshop and that was very brave of you to help me. I don’t know what would have happened if we didn’t get that ice pack.”  
You and Butterfingers rolled up, tugging at his clothes.  
“Yeah they aren’t mine. Steve lent me them.”  
The bots all chirped excitedly.  
“Shut up,” he grinned at them.  
Then the smile died on his lips.  
“I’m going to fuck it up, so don’t get used to this. I’m in far too deep, way way way over my head. Jarvis, when are you scheduled for an update?”  
“An update is overdue by 2 hours, 27 minutes, and 13 seconds, sir.”  
“Damn, what about bot maintenance?”  
“Overdue by 23 hours, 14 minutes and 3 seconds.”  
“Power-up the workshop Jarvis, I have a lot to catch up on.”

 

“You know he’s got it for you bad?” Nat said without looking up as Steve walked into the kitchen.  
Steve just laughed, keeping the secret to himself, even if Natasha guessed. They loved each other, of course they ‘had it bad’ for each other. Natasha just shrugged and took a sip of tea.  
“Where are the others?”  
“Setting up the ‘glad you are alive’ party,” Clint said on a yawn from the doorway.  
“You’re being sarcastic.”  
“Only partially,” Clint replied cheerily, “there’s no party but we were all worried Cap. I mean you have got to get that. We didn’t even know you could get ill. So, don’t do that again Cap.”  
He threw his arm across Steve’s shoulder companionably, while pouring himself a coffee. Thor came out, hair in braids.  
“Jane over then?”  
“Aye, she does my hair most exceptionally.”  
Nat and Steve hid their grins with their hand but Clint, having a bit less tact, laughed out loud.  
“They look good on you.”  
Thor beamed, then turned to Steve.  
“I am most pleased to see you have recovered. The flu can be fatal, even to Asgardians. You were in that room nearly two days Captain.”  
“Two days? Wait a second, did Tony know the flu could be fatal to Asgardians?”  
They all remained quiet, the silence tantamount to a yes.  
“I’m going to kill him.”  
“Yeah, get in line,” Nat said darkly.  
“Why? Why would that idiot stay? Why did he even take off the armour? That might have at least protected him?”  
Steve was shaking in anger, fists clenched by his side.  
“Steve,” Natasha said softly and that was all it took to calm him, unwind all the tension that had built up in seconds, “he cares about you a lot. He didn’t think Iron Man would be much comfort for you. And I guess he didn’t really care about himself if he thought it would help you. Regardless I doubt he ate while you were both in there, or drank much. So take this down for him, he hasn’t left his workshop.”  
She held out a tray laden with BBQ chicken pizza, a bowl of mixed veg, garlic bread, another bowl of fruit, and a bottle of multi-vitamins.  
“Are the vitamins necessary?” Clint asked.  
“Just because you have the diet of a five year old and survive doesn’t mean everyone can. Stark needs a lot of iron because of the Arc, and loads of vitamin c, d, basically all the vitamins. Because he doesn’t eat he doesn’t get nearly close to the amount he needs. Since he just spent the last two days around a goddamn extra-terrestrial flu, most likely taking no measures to protect himself, he needs to keep his immune system strong. That means lots of rest, good food, water, and taking his stupid vitamins that he forgets to take because he decided to tunnel-vision his way through another project,” Natasha rattled off furiously.  
Steve grabbed a knife and fork and carried the tray down.

 

Some song that Steve didn’t know was blaring out of the speakers. Tony could be found half under Butterfingers, wrench in hand and screwdriver in mouth.  
“Stoh mo-hing,” he mumbled around the screwdriver, as the wheels whirled by his hands.  
Butterfingers hummed unhappily, his ‘head’ drooping. Steve couldn’t help but laugh, the noise startling Tony into slamming his head into Butterfingers’ underside. He clumsily patted the bot’s side.  
“Sorry boy, seems like Captain worst-patient-in-the-world likes to make an entrance.”  
“I am not taking any of that from you Stark.”  
There was a faint sound of metal on metal, then Tony slid out from under the bot.  
“All done, send You over,” he said, lowering the bot carefully back to the floor.  
The bot rolled out of reach in seconds, chirping at the cowering bot in the corner.  
“They really don’t like maintenance.”  
“Yeah it’s like going to the dentist, no one likes it but it’s necessary sometimes.”  
“As is eating, so before you get to work on You can you please eat.”  
“But-“  
“No, eat.”  
“Fiiiiiine,” he huffed.  
Steve dragged him over to a workbench, and once he was seated, started fussing over him. His forehead felt no warmer than the norm, eyes were bright and clear, bones a tad too prominent for Steve’s liking and his skin pale and a tad oil-covered but no sweating or shakes. Tony just grinned at him.  
“Pretty sure I don’t need the mother-henning Cap, how are you feeling?”  
“Better, but you are an idiot Stark.”  
He was struggling to reign in his, not anger, more like frustration.  
“If you had caught it you could have died.”  
“I know, I did the calculations though,” Tony said through a mouthful if pizza.  
“Calculations?”  
“The minute I step inside the suit Jarvis scans me, he gives me a shot with the necessary vitamins and nutrients and holy caffeine to make it through a fight. Everything my body could possibly need. The adrenaline from any fight gets it through my body quicker, thus absorbed quicker. Bruce has a weak immune system after de-hulking, Clint and Natasha both had open wounds and so were prone to infections, and well I guess Thor could have taken care of you but the, urm, booming might not have been great for rest. I was the least likely to get ill out of us mere mortals and well…”  
“Well?”  
“Don’t make me say it.”  
“Say what?”  
Tony glared at him.  
“You are never to breathe a word of this to another soul.”  
“I promise I will never repeat any of this to anyone else,” Steve grinned.  
Tony’s shoulders slumped in defeat, voice just above a whisper and face buried in his hands.  
“I was worried. I didn’t want to leave you.”  
Even from behind his hands, Steve knew Tony had turned bright red.  
“I was not going to leave you to the incompetent SHIELD med crew, no way. I had to be there. I don’t know. Just. I don’t know. I was wo- I ca- I don’t know.”  
Steve grinned down at him, wrapping his arms around his embarrassed genius, hearing everything left unsaid. _I was worried. I care about you. I was scared._  
“I get it Tony.”  
He planted a kiss into the soft brown birds’ nest that Tony liked to call hair. Tony glanced up from his hands after several long minutes.  
“Me, uh, taking off the armour. You aren’t mad?”  
“Oh unbelievably mad, but I would have done the same thing. So I guess I can let the whole risk-your-life-for-me thing go,” Steve said with a grin.  
Tony just groaned, “Please never call it that.”  
“Well, I will call it that in front of Clint if you don’t finish your food.”  
With a yelp Tony began shovelling in food in a bizarre order, one that involved a mouthful of grapes being followed by garlic bread. Steve grimaced. Once the food was gone Steve watched and sketched as Tony finished the maintenance on the final bot.


	19. Team Dynamics and Norse Gods with Popular Culture Obsessions

# Chapter 19 - Team Dynamics and Norse Gods with Popular Culture Obsessions

Team dynamics remained mostly unchanged. Mostly. Now during battles, no one commented if Steve yelled at Tony more than he used to, even if Tony had reduced the sheer volume of suicidal-risk-taking-self-sacrificing stunts he usually pulled. And if Steve spent more time in the workshop than he used to, and Tony developed healthier sleeping and eating habits, no one brought that up either. Mainly because Tony was looking healthier and a helluva lot happier. There were a few changes to accommodation, Tony and Steve always sharing a bed, sometimes in Steve’s room, sometimes in Tony’s. There was also the addition of more personal items dotting Tony’s room. A toy bear, so small it could fit in Tony’s palm, wearing the Captain America Uniform and holding a tiny felt shield. Steve won it at a funfair, and Tony insists he never sleeps with it (he definitely does, mostly when Steve’s not around to cuddle up to). There were also photos everywhere. Strips from photo booths, polaroids tucked into photo frames and draws, Tony’s _scrap_ book almost full. There were towers of books balanced on the nightstand. All Steve’s. The biggest change was movie night. Tony took up less of the sofa, often cuddled up with Steve; and Tony’s movie night always had Steve at his feet, gentle massage to soothe his boyfriend’s aches.

 

So Steve might have managed to make Tony’s sleeping habits healthier. Doesn’t mean they were perfect. After a new record 173 hours of no sleep, six collapses after which Tony just continued working, seventeen arguments which left Steve locked out of the workshop for, at most, thirteen seconds in the aftermath, one missed movie night, three force-fed meals which Tony didn’t stop working during, a lost count of coffee, and twelve superheroes and four friends to finally drag him away once he completed the work (refusing to be moved before then). Steve had realised it was always bad when Tony’s work could seriously affect other people. Tony was working on several new pieces of medical equipment and a new prosthetic design that apparently wasn’t working very well. It took Thor, Sam, Rhodey, and Steve, each grabbing a limb, to pull Tony up for some air as he struggled against them. Steve quickly pushed him into the shower, everyone leaving to let Steve deal with his (dirty, grimy, dust-covered) lover. Eventually, with damp curls and clean skin, Tony was seated on the couch surrounded by the usuals, the regulars, and the rarities. Natasha was on his left, Bruce on his right. Steve was sat in front of him so Tony could carefully rub his shoulders, an act that had become movie night tradition. Clint and Coulson had their usual loveseat. Sam had one of the armchairs, Thor lying spread eagle across the floor at his feet. Jane was lying next to him, tracing patterns across his chest. Darcy was sitting on the arm of Sam’s chair, throwing popcorn if she disapproved at whatever movie was chosen. Pepper and Rhodey had grabbed the beanbag chairs and were sat next to Wanda. Wanda was sat on Steve’s right, painting Tony’s toenails (which he failed to notice, although she was doing a lovely job in red, white, and blue). Pietro was sat by Clint, getting inordinate amounts of joy from annoying him (Coulson was amused). Kate had come by for a visit, also teasing Clint. As a method of coercion, to stop Tony returning to the workshop, they let him pick the film. Or tried to. He wasn’t making much sense anymore.   
“The one with the sadness, I like sadness. And disgust, because no one likes broccoli. Monkeys are weird. What about the one with the thing that things? I like that one. Bing Bong.”   
No one understood what Tony meant, except Steve, so he just stuck on the latest Pixar movie. Tony murmured in approval as the opening credits to ‘Inside Out’ started playing.

 

It didn’t take long. No one really expected it too. It started as Tony’s hands slid down Steve’s arm. He kept trying to readjust them back to the shoulders but to no avail. They rested on Steve’s chest in the end, Tony draped heavily over Steve, breathing softly against his neck. A quick look confirmed he was still awake. Somehow. Everyone was still trying to figure out how he did it. Tony looked down at Wanda, smiling sleepily at his brightly coloured toenails. He sagged forward, resting his chin in Steve’s hair. Surprisingly, Pietro was the first to fall asleep, a flurry of movement one moment, still and silent the next. So silent that Coulson and Clint checked his pulse several times. Wanda smiled fondly at him and resumed painting (now having moved on to Steve’s in crimson with gold stripes). Steve could feel Tony’s body grow heavier and heavier against his, body curled into a gangly mess. His legs were tucked under him, back bowed, neck jutted in a way which must be painful. Wanda suddenly flicked her hands, red light dancing in her eyes. The light was trailing around Tony, holding him up after he had abruptly slipped. Steve turned around, supporting an unconscious Tony in his arms. Voices were hushed and a doctor and assassin climbed off the sofa to make room for Steve. Laying Tony out flat, Steve lay down next to him. Tony turned in his arms and nuzzled into his neck with a pleased murmur. Wanda was next to fall asleep, having completed pink toenails on Bruce and black on Natasha. Her head was resting on Natasha’s shoulder, dark hair fallen in front of her face. Clint and Coulson were next, Kate drawing on their faces until she too fell asleep. Bruce shortly followed, placing an empty mug on the coffee table in front of him. No one knew when Thor fell asleep, only that Jane had easily learnt to sleep through the snoring as had Darcy. Sam’s head was lolling back over the arm of the chair, soft snores coming from him. Pepper was asleep on Rhodey’s shoulder, hair a rare mess. Rhodey was looking distinctly pleased before he too fell asleep. Then it was just Natasha, watching over her ever growing family.

 

Tony was having a weird dream. Not bad. Just weird. Not one of his too-close-to-home, terror inducing, scarily like a reality he once knew dreams. This one was like if one of those dreams went into a house of mirrors while on acid. He was in the cave, breath misting as he exhaled. There was sand and dust everywhere, rusty doors sealing him in. Until Abu Bakar was in the room, a tin bath full of water that Tony knew held an icy bite and a frozen caress. Forced to kneel before his fear, something felt different this time. The firm pressure at his head could not force him beneath the water, red light glittering across its surface. The pressure was gone from his neck as Bakar was dragged off his feet by a blond with warm blue eyes. Steve. And by his side stood the twinsassins. Thor smashed through the door that sealed him in, Banner coming to his side to check him over. Wanda and Pietro stood beside them, Wanda manipulating the water to shield him from its consuming cold. But suddenly he was cold for a whole new reason, the cave crumbling and the skies opening above him to reveal a vast galaxy. He was falling, falling, falling. Stars glittered like diamonds and dust far away. But suddenly he wasn’t alone. He was caught before he even left the other world, Rhodey on his left, Sam on his right. Then he was safe on the ground, in Steve’s arms, then Rhodey’s, then Pepper’s, then back in Steve’s. For the first time in a long long while he woke slowly. No sudden jerking out of formless darkness, nor gasps for air as water faded back into memory, nor the sudden plummet that left him in paralysed wakefulness. Just warmth at his side and the sound of slow breathing all around the room.   
“If you so much as think about moving before you sleep for another twelve hours, I’m pinning you to the closest bed.”   
Tony just burrowed his face deeper into Steve’s shoulder, pulling a blanket off the back of the couch. He closed his eyes and dreamt of warmth, and Italian restaurants, and Steve.

 

Well at least until the Avengers alarm blared. Everyone was up, the twins, the assassins, the soldiers, the doctor, the god, and the mechanic all headed out to the chaos that was the streets of New York. They all stared in confusion as a Jigglypuff and a Delicatty had a vicious battle involving nothing but growling at each other. Falcon zoomed into the sky, followed by Iron Man and War Machine. They flew with Pigeot and Fearow as they tore through the open air. Captain America and the Twins were surrounded by a pack of Caterpie, no one doing anything. Natasha just walked over to them and kicked one, it squealing as it flew through the air and hit a window. Thor was conversing with several Pikachu and Raichu, lightning flying between them.   
“The creatures do not know why they are here. They were originally in the various regions of another world.”   
They could all hear the Falcon and War Machine screeching as giant Crane with wings of fire chased them across the sky. Tony was flying up behind it, repulsors at hand.   
“Why the fuck is there a moltres? J, find out where they are coming from.”   
“Of course, sir.”   
A few minutes of trying to stop the other flyers being roasted alive, then Jarvis found something.   
“Originating from Avengers Tower rooftop sir.”   
Tony immediately flew up, landing with a thud.

 

What awaited him was quite surprising. Loki was lying on his back, 3DS held above his face and he was grinning, completely oblivious to the outside world. Tony had to resist the very strong urge to punch him, going toe to toe with a God didn’t often work out in his favour.   
“What game are you playing?”   
“Pokemon X,” Loki replied without looking around, “Midgardians have the best video games.”   
“Wait 'til you play Zelda.”   
Loki saved and flicked the cartridge out, as Tony peered over the edge of the building. The Moltres flickered away, to the confusion of the team. Everything, all the pokemon just disappeared. But in their place bobokins and keese fell from the sky. Then a giant dinosaur. Dodongo. It breathed out an inferno, then drew in a breath that pulled everyone closer to it.   
“Stark, where are you?”   
“Avengers Rooftop, get Barton to fire bombs into that things mouth. I’ve found the cause, only he doesn’t realise it,” Tony muttered into his comms.   
Loki glanced up slightly.   
“Who are you talking to?”   
“Steve.”   
“And you’re finally together?”   
“Why does everyone assume about us?” Tony asked exasperated.   
Loki just arched an eyebrow at him, and resumed playing his game.   
“What are you doing here Loki?”   
“I came to find Odinson. Have you seen him?”   
“Yeah, he’s down on the ground. Fighting the things you are creating.”   
“Tell him I desire to speak with him. And creating?”   
“Yeah, did you not see the Moltres a second ago? Or the Dodongo that just fell from the sky?”   
Loki just looked sceptical, clearly not believing Tony. The wails of a dying Dodongo emitted from the 3DS only to be echoed down on the street. Loki saved and slotted in another game. Tony could hear beeping and the sound of engines revving.   
“SHIT,” came a yelp through the comms.   
“You didn’t see that coming, old man?”   
“Who the _fuck_ thought I’d almost get run over by fucking bumble bee.”   
“I think she’s the Queen Bee.”   
“Well you would think that, Nat.”   
Tony peered over the edge of the building, seeing dots of Green and Pink and Red zoom around the streets. After a minute or so the world seemed to change. The sky was darkening, except for lights brighter than the Aurora Borealis dancing across the sky. The Galaxy shone above him. His breath caught in his throat. Until a warm hand was placed at the small of his back and a voice whispered in his ear, a safe and familiar voice that soothed him through nightmares like this.   
“You’re okay.”   
And he was. He wouldn’t fall, he had support. And if he did there were people to catch him. Tony took a deep breath, heartbeat steadying. He reached down and slid his hand in Steve’s.   
“Can I punch him?”   
“No,” Steve replied, staring in annoyed curiosity at the God who hadn’t acknowledged his presence, “why, do you want to?”   
“Yeah,” Tony replied incredulously, “Did you forget the whole ‘he made you ill and almost killed you’ thing?”   
“It wasn’t that bad.”   
Tony just glared at Steve. Then Loki piped up.   
“The virus had a suicide gene, it wouldn’t have infected anyone else.”   
Tony and Steve looked at each other, confusion plain on both their faces.   
“Then why do it?” Steve quizzed.   
Loki rolled his eyes, finally shutting the 3DS with a snap. He stood gracefully, rolling to his feet, Asgradian attire bright in the light. The tarnished gold glinted in the sunshine as the Galaxy above them faded. His hair was long, past his shoulders.   
“Because,” he said looking between Steve and Tony with curiosity, “despite being puissant heroes, you are both incapable of navigating the gallimaufry of your emotions.”   
Tony and Steve shared a glance, before raising their joined hands up into Loki’s eye line. His eyes grew wide and his mouth formed a gentle ‘oh’.   
“So you both are…? When?”   
Steve and Tony grinned at him.   
“Shortly after you turned me into a kid.”   
“So that one worked.”   
“What do you mean ‘that one’?”   
“Being an infant should have invoked a feeling of protectiveness, the ordeal bringing you closer.”   
“You… were trying to help,” Steve breathed.   
“No,” Loki glared at them both.   
“You _so_ were,” Tony smirked.   
Steve squeezed Tony’s hand in gentle caution, to get him to drop the topic before he angered the God. Loki was already riled and growing impatient in the wait for his brother.   
“I was not. And where is Thor? I desire to speak with him.”   
“And what do you wish of me, Brother? I have no patience for your cozening nature,” Thor said as he crossed the rooftop.   
“Nor I your contumelious attitude. I only seek to offer you my council. You must stay away from Miss Foster, at least for the present.”   
“And what reason do you provide me with for this action?”   
“Amora.”   
Thor visibly paled, ghostly white under a mass of blond hair. He looked a little ill if anything.   
“What’s Amora?”   
When Thor clearly wasn’t capable of answering, Loki stepped in.   
“The enchantress. She has been infatuated, nay obsessed with Thor for about a millennia now. And she does not take kindly to, shall I say, competition in that area of Thor’s life. I will try to… reason with her.”   
“I thank you, brother.”   
Loki held up a single finger, silencing the other God.   
“Not your brother.”   
“Maybe not in blood, but you are still my family. These Midgardians have taught me many things. Humility, patience, that revenge is never sagacious. But my favourite tuition has been that family is far stronger when made by bond, than when forced by blood.”   
Loki fell silent, eyes assessing as he glanced between the three men on the roof. Slowly he took a step back, then leapt nimbly backwards onto the edge of roof. He paced along it with the poise of a dancer. He seemed to be processing Thor’s words, throwing looks at the God as if waiting for the changing tide.   
“You still desire me for a brother?” he pondered.   
“Aye,” Thor replied evenly.   
Loki was still watching them apprehensively. He hopped off the wall surrounding the roof and walked briskly past them.   
“Do not confuse familiarity with family, Brother,” he spat out.   
“Well you did just call him ‘brother’,” Tony pointed out.   
And then in a move swifter than Thor’s lightning, his feet were off the ground as a hand closed around his throat.   
“I’ve thrown you from this building once metal man.”   
Steve caught Tony’s flailing legs, trying to ease some of the pressure off his lover’s throat. Steve tried to kick, hit Loki, but couldn’t do much more than make him laugh at each hit unless Steve wanted to risk compromising the safer position he’d gotten Tony into.   
“Release him,” Thor demanded, holding out a hand to summon Mjolnir.   
“He won’t throw me,” Tony gasped out.   
“Won’t I?” Loki challenged, with a glint in his eye as he pulled out a dagger and pressing it to Tony’s throat.   
“No, because you aren’t a bad person,” Tony coughed.   
In his surprise at the words Loki dropped him, full body weight falling into Steve’s arms – who didn’t even falter – as he gasped for breath.   
“You want that drink?” Tony offered Loki, “I could use that drink.”   
“It’s like old times,” Loki smirked at him.

 

Steve insisted on carrying Tony, much to the latter’s protests and reluctance. Since all the Mario Karts disappeared when Loki stopped playing, the team had reconvened in the entertainments room, for additional movies. Tony pulled out several bottles of water, tossing them to the generally tired but entirely uninjured team. Thor returned grumpily to the floor, whispering in Jane’s ear. Clearly he was telling her about Amora, judging by her worried body language and her ‘I-don’t-care-if-it’s-dangerous-I-drove-into-a-hurricane-and-met-you-it-will-be-fine’ look. Tony pulled Loki back into the kitchen, preventing him from skulking out.   
“I meant it. You aren’t a bad person, Loki. Misguided for a time, maybe. But people are allowed second chances.”   
“Some people don’t deserve them.”   
“No, some people don’t. Take me for instance. I didn’t deserve to get out of that cave, especially not for what it cost. I didn’t deserve to leave that wormhole but I made it. I’m way past my second chance.”   
“As am I. I cannot begin to ask for forgiveness.”   
“That’s what your missing,” Tony said with a sad smile, “regardless of whether you ask or not, forgiveness is given or not given, earned or not earned, wasted or not wasted. And you have been given forgiveness by your brother,” Tony held up a hand to silence the God’s interruptions, “don’t bother correcting me. He is your brother. Now what you choose to do with that forgiveness is up to you. But don’t waste it. Chances are you won’t get it again.”   
Tony opened the freezer, in search of an ice pack to place against his swelling throat. Silence reigned, awkward and thoughtful. Until Loki broke it.   
“And forgiving yourself? How do you attain that?”   
“I don’t know. I’m the wrong person to ask.”   
“You acted as though you had answers Stark.”   
Loki, cape fanning out as he turned, marched towards the door. Tony walked to the coffee machine and poured a cup.   
“I can only tell you my method,” coffee cup in hand he blocked Loki’s exit, “you don’t. You learn from your mistakes, your failings, and make yourself better. But you never _ever_ make excuses to yourself. You may be a God of Lies, quite literally I am told, but even you can’t lie to yourself and turn it to truth.”   
“Thank you Stark,” Loki said stiffly.   
He looked a little green around the edges, clearly about as comfortable with this subject as Tony was.   
“You are joining us for movie night,” Tony ordered, with enough authority in his voice to make Natasha proud.   
Loki brushed past Tony and slunk down the corridor. Tony turned to watch him, seeing Steve resting just outside the room leaning against the wall.   
“Been eavesdropping have you?” Tony chuckled at Steve.   
Steve looked embarrassed and dropped his gaze. He was eyeing the bruises, faint and purple, dotting Tony’s throat. Gingerly, he cupped Tony’s chin and lifted it so he could see them more clearly. The corner of his mouth twitched, face turning from passive to grimace to snarl.   
“He hurt you,” Steve voice was cold and sharp.   
Tony turned into the caress, eyes fluttering shut.   
“He still deserves a chance to make things right. But I don’t know if I can forgive him for hurting you… Did you mean what you said?”   
Tony’s eyes snapped open, sensing a heavy conversation approaching fast.   
“That you can’t forgive yourself…”   
Great, just what he needed after today. Still extremely tired, had to fight pokemon, get strangled by a Norse God, give the same Norse God a pep talk, and now this. Some days his life sucked.   
“Can we do this later?”   
Steve looked at tired eyes, tense body language, and bruised skin, before he nodded.   
“Yeah, after another movie night.”   
“Two in one week, aren’t we lucky?”   
“To make up for the one you missed last week.”   
“I missed one last week?”   
“Yes Tony,” Steve replied, fondly exasperated, “You know that I forgive you for everything between us, right?”   
“Okay, so we are doing this now. I don’t always think I deserve it but yes, I do believe you have forgiven me. I just can’t forgive myself. I caused so much death Steve. There is too much blood on my hands to be absolved of it.”   
“You’ve saved so many lives since then.”   
“And one life does not equal another. We both know that.”   
There was sadness in Steve’s sigh, “Yeah, we both know. I meant you do so much good in the world. Please, never forget that. And never forget how much you mean to the people around you. How much you mean to me.”   
Tony murmured something and dragged Steve through to the entertainments room, Loki arguing over the portrayal of Loki in Supernatural.   
“Trickster Gods do not have a fondness for sweets.”   
Thor just gave him a look. A look that screamed a big brother calling out a little brother on a lie. And Loki argues they aren’t family.   
“Loki, you always traded your leg of goat for my sweetroll.”   
“I thought you liked goat.”   
“Aye, I do. And you favour the sweetrolls.”   
“Yeah, well, shut up,” Loki grumbled petulantly, to the grins of those around him (except Barton and Coulson who were both sat as far away as possible).   
Loki was sat on the far side of the room, Thor, Jane (she hit one Norse God with a car, she’ll do it again), Darcy (she tasered one Norse God, she’ll do it again), and Bruce acting as buffer from the rest of the team. But Loki was silently watching the movies and shows that the others suggested.

 

A couple of hours (and a boxset) later, Loki thanked them all woodenly for their hospitality. Tony gave him a few boxsets of assorted TV shows and he left, just like that. New York wasn’t even damaged by his sudden appearance.   
“So he really did create all of those pokemon by accident?”   
“Seems like it. Not the first time we’ve seen magic create entire new worlds.”   
The team all settled down, watching a few more episodes of various shows, before everyone agreed to mindlessly watch Tom and Jerry. Tony, for perhaps the first time, he truly felt happy surrounded by his friends. No. Thor was right. He felt truly happy surrounded by his fast-growing family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to Rob, Thank You for constantly listen to my insane fanfiction babble, putting up with my fangirling, and just supporting all my writing


	20. Of Cephalopods and Grecian Monsters

# Chapter 20 - Of Cephalopods and Grecian Monsters

“What is this, our six, no seventh Hydra base this month?”  
“About that, yeah.”  
“So where is everyone?” Clint asked.  
“Beats me, Sailor Mars. They’ve never been this empty.”  
Tony and Clint reached the end of the dead hallway, a turning to the left and right. Tony flicked his fingers, sending Clint stalking down the path on the right as he took the left. Over the comms they were still chatting.  
“Maybe they gave up.”  
“No chance of that bird brain, they are fanatics. Cut off one head etcetera.”  
“A girl can dream though.”  
Tony could hear the grin in Clint’s voice. A scuffle of movement had Tony raise the repulsors but it was gone.  
“Probably a rat,” he muttered.  
“No infra-red showing sir.”  
“Guess not then. Heating ducts?”  
“Most likely cause based on current data sir.”  
Still he kept the repulsors raised, switching to night vision as he tried to locate the server room.  
“Hey Banner, am I even close?”  
“Coming up on your right. Barton, how are you doing in there?”  
“Accessing protective barriers, should be down in the next half hour. Faster if Stark hurries up.”  
“How did you guys get in there anyway?”  
“Sewers,” Tony and Clint replied with matching grimaces, disgust easily heard over the comms.  
“We really should have sent Natasha in with Clint.”  
“Brucie bear, what do you mean by that?” Tony asked, sugary tone hiding the slight hurt.  
“Just your suit is a little… ostentatious. And this is a covert mission.”  
“Oh sweetie, it’s so overt, it’s covert. Plus there is no one here,” he said, spreading his arms out and twirling around down the empty corridor.  
Tony finally found the door to the server room, vast towers of computers.  
“Anyway, talk to Jarvis because the Tony ain’t listening. You’ve wounded my fragile soul.”  
“And you say you aren’t dramatic.”  
“Not dramatic, I just have flare. J, sentry mode,” Tony ordered, stepping out of the suit, “and scan for secret passageways.”  
“No anomalies detected sir, no secret passageways found.”  
Tony’s disappointed ‘aww’ was met with laughter from Clint.  
“What, a girl can dream can’t she?” Tony joined in with the laughter down the comms, “J, download the data and delete it from here when you are done. I need to access the mainframe, see if I can find other bases.”  
Tony began clacking at keys, trying to break past the encryption. And the firewall. And find his way around the poorly designed interface. All of which was suspiciously easy. He had about ten minutes uninterrupted, Jarvis occasionally relaying information between himself and the team. Barton was having some kind of issue with the barriers. A faint puff of air amongst the whirs of the servers was all the warning Tony got. And it wasn’t much of a warning. Something small and sharp pierced his neck. He plucked it out. A small dart with bright red plumage sat in his hand. The colours swam before his eyes.  
“I really wish people would stop drugging me,” he said, before he slumped off the chair and onto the concrete floor.

 

He was chained up. Again. For fuck’s sake. His arms were shackled to the wall and his feet bound to the floor. He feigned unconsciousness for a few minutes as he tried to figure out where he was and what happened. Still fully clothed, that’s always a plus. The room he was in smelt damp and musty, the air stale and cold. Fairly dark as well, no light getting through his closed lids. Underground maybe. There was an impatient tapping of a heel against what sounded like stone floor. Felt like it too, going by how cold his ass felt.  
“I know you are awake. You are wasting both of our time by faking.”  
Tony cracked open his eyes, revealing a dimly lit room. Underground by the look and feel, only one way in and out, a staircase at the far end of the room. The only light source was a small kerosene lamp burning merrily on a table in the middle of the room. Perched on the rough wooden table, a horrible sight in leather, sat a ginger girl with a coquettish smile.  
“Nice of you to join me.”  
“You’re Sin, right?”  
“The original,” She smirked back, “now, I am going to ask some questions and you are going to answer them.”  
“What makes you think I will?” Tony asked, indifference clear on his face.  
He’d done all of this before, some high handed kidnapper demanding things from him. Things he refused to give that often led to disastrous results for the kidnapper.  
“Oh, you won’t be able to help yourself.”  
“Please Gingersnap, no one but the Black Widow makes me do things I don’t want to do.”  
She canted her body over him, leaning over to whisper in his ear.  
“Want to know what the deadliest sin is? Pride. Pride maketh and breaketh the man. Time to break you, tin man.”  
Tony rolled his eyes, all for show. He was under no illusions over what a psycho this girl was, but she wasn’t the top psycho.  
“Whatever Weasley. The Captain made you sound scarier than this but you’re all talk.”  
“Oh, all you’ll do is talk. But Madame said I could have a little fun first.”  
“Madame?”  
“Oh don’t worry, you’ll meet her. Madame Hydra, ruler of Hydra since the fall of my father.”  
“Your father?” Tony asked curiously.  
“Oh, you would probably know him as the Red Skull. But daddy dearest wanted a boy. A boy like you most likely. Smart and ambitious, cunning and witty. Everything I know I am, but with a different set of genitalia.”  
Her voice was coming from behind clenched teeth, her smile forced and twisted.  
“But how are you-?”  
“Hydra has technology that far outstrips some of your own. Suspended animation is our specialty.”  
“Well you look good for a seventy year old daughter of a man with a burnt face and anger issues.”  
“You look good too for an alcoholic, fifty year old with a job that is far beyond your capabilities.”  
Tony pulled a face, the banter still having the edge of danger. Stilettos sounded through the darkness, clacking across the tiles. For the briefest moment Tony thought it was Pepper. Until he saw the curl of green and black hair across a ghostly white face.  
"Hush child, one would think that you are speaking poorly of our guest.”  
Though her words were soft, her voice was cold and sharp, a hidden reprimand and warning to Sin.  
“Sorry Madame, I meant no harm.”  
The tone grew warmer as a delicate hand reached up and patted Sin’s hair like she was the family dog. Manicured nails, painted emerald green, threaded through the auburn locks.  
“I know child. You have done well. I just wanted to see what spoils our mission will provide us.”  
She knelt down next to Tony, cupping his chin and dragging it around as she inspected him. Her smile blossomed softly, as she positioned his arms into better positions.  
“You have done well, Sin. He will make a fine addition. Another that even the Captain cannot defeat.”  
Tony gulped audibly. He had heard stories, nightmares, of what Hydra did to prisoners. Things he dismissed as impossible. Until now. Experimentation was at the front of his mind, on humans, mutants, and heroes alike. Torture seemed like the least of his worries. Madame Hydra rose to her feet in a fluid motion, snake green dress hugging her curves. The slit up to her hip revealed yet more paper white skin with a blade strapped to her leg.  
“I must head to headquarters to prepare for our new asset, the Soldier will be sent down shortly to offer any assistance. After your last _failing_ you wouldn’t want to displease me further.”  
“No Madame.”  
Tony watched curiously, Sin stood in parade rest politely listening to Madame Hydra’s instructions. There were traces of fear hidden on her, well concealed but just visible to someone who was looking. Her fingers twitching over the handle of a blade hidden in her back pocket. Defensive stance, leaning away from Madame. After that, Madame left and Sin relaxed with a smile.  
“ _Finally_ ,” she smiled at Tony, teeth bared, “now I get my fun.”  
She sat down next to him and pulled out a blade from the sheath of her fire truck red corset. She traced paper-thin lines down his neck and across his shoulder blades and back. The slices were deep enough that hairline scars would be left. Tony gritted his teeth against the pain but all in all he’d had worse. It didn’t compare to Afghanistan. Not that he was going to underestimate her. She was just ‘having her fun’. A childish giggle was ripped from her as she pushed him forward, making him lean over his knees so she might better examine her work.  
“Perfect,” she grinned wider than the Cheshire cat, “a walking advertisement for us. Those will look beautiful once healed.”  
Tony twizzled his neck, trying to get a view of what had apparently been some kind of artwork on his back. All he could make out was blood.  
“Now, Mr Stark. Time to answer some of my questions.”

 

“Jarvis? Jarvis?” Vzzt… Sir has bezzzzzt… System error. Manual restart required.”  
“Clint, get to the server room.”  
With a final click, Clint managed to disable the shields surrounding the compound.  
“Shields are down, locating Stark now.”  
Clint’s feet pounded along the corridors, reaching the turning Stark took. He followed the corridor down, stopping at the only door that had traces of light shining under the doorframe. Carefully Clint pushed open the door. Computers towered over him as he carefully walked towards the desk against the back wall. The Iron Man armour stood frozen, one hand raised and poised to fire at the tipped over desk chair. Bow raised and arrow strung up, Clint pulled the desk chair upright. And then something red caught his eye. A tiny dart, red feathers crumpled.  
“Found the armour but no Stark, I think he’s been taken.”  
Rolling the dart between the fingers of his free hand, Clint began trying to find the manual restart button. The armour came to life, pinning Clint to the wall.  
“Identification,” it demanded, British accent gone and replaced with something cold and mechanical.  
“Clinton Francis Barton.”  
“User ID not recognised. Identification.”  
Clint puzzled for a moment.  
“Hawkeye?” he suggested tentatively.  
“User ID not recognised. Identification.”  
“Steve, we have a problem. The armour is demanding ID. Won’t let me up.”  
“Put your comms near the audio input channel,” Bruce’s calm voice resonated down the Comms.  
Clint did as told and with a few whispered voice commands from Bruce and Steve the armour shut down, blue glow fading from the eyes.  
“User ID: Steven Grant Rogers. Voice Key accepted. Initiating system restart.”  
“How did you do that?”  
“I helped Tony in the workshop adding code to the suits that allow Steve external control if the user is unable to. Basically it’s a failsafe that means Steve can get Tony out of the suit if anything happens. But apparently he didn’t tell Steve.”  
The annoyance in the Doctor’s voice was tangible, clearly he’d been berating Tony for a while over this.  
“Restart complete. Hello Mr Barton,” came the dulcet British tones of everyone’s favourite AI.  
“Jarvis, what happened? Where is Tony?” everyone asked frantically.  
“I am afraid I don’t know. A frequency jammed my systems. I am sincerely sorry.”  
“It’s not your fault Jarvis,” Clint said sympathetically, hearing the worry for his creator in the AI’s voice, “we just need to find him. He’s Tony-fucking-Stark, he can make it through anything.”  
And at Clint’s unshakable belief he could hear the other team members follow suit.

 

“Soldier, do you have it?”  
The Soldier handed Sin a small dart, with aqua blue plumage this time around. Tony was staring at the man only referred to as the soldier. He was the man Natasha had mentioned all that time ago, the thought sticking because, really, metal arm. How could that not stick with him? But he wasn’t focused on that. He looked oddly familiar. Sin stuck the dart in his neck. Tony was expecting to fall unconscious, but instead he just felt giddy, a hysterical giggle tearing from his lungs. He was babbling but nothing could stop him.  
“He looks familiar, doesn’t he look familiar? I bet Steve would know, Steve has an eidetic memory, he’d know.”  
Something in the metal armed man twitched, a tick around the jaw as his whole body became taut. But Sin looked delighted.  
“Yeah, tell us about Steve. What is he good at? Bad at? What makes him strong? Weak?”  
“He’s really good at art,” Tony said woozily, grinning as his head wove side to side, “but shy about it. He’s a great cook, ‘specially with breakfast. He can’t whistle though. Or sing very well.”  
A smile twitched across the Soldier’s face, swiftly replaced with a frown and then back to his impassive glare.  
“He’s strong, so strong. God, I could lick him all over. But,” Tony’s head felt foggy, words tumbling off his tongue before he had time to think through what he wanted to say, “he’s strong where it counts too. He has a massive heart, I have no idea what he’s doing with me. I should ask, when can I see Steve?”  
He blinked hazily up at his captors.  
“Soon pet, soon. So what is he weak against?”  
“He cares, cares so much. Both strength and weakness. He would give himself up to protect what he cares about.”  
A soft gasp comes from the Soldier, but loud enough that it draws Sin’s attention. She stands at his feet, at least half a foot shorter than him. But that doesn’t stop her. She reaches up and backhands him hard. His head jerks around but he raises no hand to defend himself.  
“Are you well, Soldier?”  
He nods instantly, eyes watering slightly at the stinging sensation across his face. Fuzzily, Tony stores that away. It seems important. Like he’s conditioned. Another bout of hysterical laughter bursts from his chest, pulling Sin’s attention back to him.  
“Tell me about Natasha,” Sin smiles sweetly at him.  
“Itsy bitsy spider, climbs up the water spout. She’ll show you real pain as she knocks you the fuck out,” Tony sing-songs at her, entire body now following the weaving motion of his head.  
But his eyes follow the movement of the soldier, flesh hand grasping at the wrist of his metal one.  
“What’s her weakness?”  
“Natasha? She is too smart to show me. Because something like this might happen.”  
Another harsh giggle bursts through him. He can’t control what he’s saying, he’s giving away the weaknesses of his team, he’s probably going to die here, and he is finding it all hysterically funny. On some level he knows that isn’t an appropriate reaction but whatever they gave him has shut off the rational part of his brain.  
“And Agent Barton, what are his weaknesses?”  
“The birdy only has a bow and arrows. Once the arrows are gone what else can he do? Well a lot but, like, he’s Hawkeye. He has the eyes of a hawk. He needs a target."  
“And Doctor Banner? His weaknesses?”  
“Self-esteem issues,” Tony grinned in a would-be flippant manner had his tone not sounded so serious, “he’s Brucie-bear, and the green rage monster rolled into one. He’s calm and angry, peaceful and violent, he’s a two in one of contrasting personalities, you would have issues too. But he’s Brucie and he’s my science bro. Where’s Steve? You said I could see Steve.”  
Tony’s tone was demanding but Sin shushed him.  
“In a bit. You seem rather fixated on Steve, why is that?”  
“Because I love him, he’s awesome and adorable and sweet and blond and he’s Captain America, he’s like freedom and apple pie and he folds his socks and he tunelessly whistles when he’s happy.”  
Something was burning across the Soldier’s face, an impossible emotion but he didn’t make a sound. Just his eyes were lit like hell was burning behind them. And that was when Tony recognised him. He didn’t know how he’d missed it.  
“Hey I know you, you’re…”  
He let the words trail away into silence at the almost imperceptible shake of the Soldier’s head. But that drew Sin’s attention to the looks between them. She slapped the Soldier hard across the face.  
“Remember what you are here to do, Soldier. Do not let the enemy distract you.”  
He nodded silently. Another raw laugh tore through Tony as he stared at the Soldier. Sergeant James Buchannan Barnes of the 107th. Dad had shown him pictures. Steve had told him stories. How did he not recognise him sooner? Except for the addition of a metal arm and longer, greasier hair he looked much the same.  
“And what about the last of your team? Thor? What’s his weakness?”  
Tony’s head was starting to hurt now, headache pinching at the eyes. He shouldn’t be here, telling her these things. He’d already said so much about them all, about Steve. Oh god, Steve. Steve was, Steve was going to be mad, so mad when he finds out what Tony had said.  
“I think he needs another dose, hand me another.”  
There was a sharp pinprick in his neck and the giddy feeling stole over his mind again. A sharp slap sent his body to the floor, his mind taking a few seconds to catch up.  
“Tell me Thor’s weaknesses.”  
“His brother. And Darcy and Selvig. They are his family down here. And, and Jane. He loves Jane. I love Steve, I want to go see Steve.”  
“Oh sweetie, you really think Steve will want to see you after everything you’ve told me. Sold out your own team,” Sin grinned wickedly.  
She flicked away the dart that she pulled from his neck and sauntered from the room with pride.  
“Make sure he doesn’t escape,” she called over her shoulder as she ascended the staircase.  
Once she was out of sight, out of earshot, the Soldier – James – bent down over Tony; his metal hand gripping at Tony’s throat, not enough to cut off air but enough to leave fingertip bruises like a rainbow across Tony’s throat.  
“Steve, what is his full name?” he whispered with desperate urgency.  
“Steven Grant Rogers,” the words dripping off Tony’s lips, soft smile as he said his lover’s name.  
“Rogers’ birthday?”  
“July 4th 1918\. He was literally born on Independence Day. He’s so American and adorable and-“  
“Shut up, what does he look like?”  
“Blond, gorgeous blue eyes, built like a Dorito but like a sexy Dorito. You probably don’t remember him like that though. He was little and cute but always ill and-“  
The soldier’s hand muffled the rest of Tony’s ramblings but his metal grip loosened from Tony’s throat.  
“How is he alive?” James’ rough voice murmured, more to himself than anything.  
“He got frozen. How are you alive?”  
“I got frozen,” James replied with a touch of humour that had felt long lost but gratefully found, “wanna get out of here?”  
Tony pushed him away, though his co-ordination was so bad he simply pushed himself backwards across the floor, head hitting the wall with a thump.  
“I have a boyfriend, I appreciate your offer but I love him and he is my boyfriend and I miss him. I want Steve.”  
“I meant get out of here and find him.”  
“I am not some damsel in distress, I can get myself and you out.”  
Tony raised both of his hands free from his binds, holding them out for display. Barnes looked suitably impressed.  
“You get kidnapped a lot, you learn how to Houdini out of handcuffs.”  
“ _Houdini_. Okay then.”  
“I managed to get Steve caught up, now I have to do you too?”  
The soldier’s mouth twitched into a small smile.  
“I think he was mostly before my time.”

 

He didn’t know where his memories came from, nor which were real. He knew one thing was consistent in all of them. Steve Rogers. Sometimes an enemy, sometimes a friend. But always somewhere in his memories. And they came bursting through like floodwater once an either very smart or very lucky red-head stabbed him through the wrist. The shocks, the shocks were so similar to Hydra’s marking of his neural pathways. But this time it opened up a new world, a world beyond Hydra. A world where he could find his own place. But something had stayed his hand, forced him to remain with Hydra. Fear. Fear of what he had done. Fear of what he was, but still without a clue of who he was. Until he met this man. And then he was forced to face it, when he was told to guard a man who looked eerily like a target he’d taken out years ago. Then told he was the target’s son. He’d killed that man’s family in cold blood and still the man fought. If this man could keep fighting, why shouldn’t he at least try? So here he was, chasing the man who had escaped his own shackles without notice or fanfare, and was now running up the stairs. He stopped dead as the stairs ended at a wall. Tony was still babbling aimlessly, the drugs stuck in his system for the time being. Tony had found the keypad that unlocked the door and was pulling it apart, connecting wires and pressing buttons. The door slid open within minutes, both of them running through. Only to stop short, the door closing behind them. Sin stood grinning.  
“I knew it,” she gleefully exclaimed, “But I need to make him like you, soldier.”  
His legs moved before he registered it, metal arm crossing her throat and holding her off the ground.  
“You will never make another like me.”  
She grinned, even as she gasped for air.  
“Another like you? You think you were the first? You think you’ll be the last?”  
“I’ll make sure I am,” James snarled.  
“Tough guy,” she smiled, “killed tougher.”  
She twisted, freeing herself of his hold. In a motion, she grabbed a knife and tore it through Barnes’ stomach, though it was only a shallow wound. Then an elbow struck her across the face, breaking her nose and splattering blood across the floor.  
“Don’t forget about me,” Tony pushed Sin away from Barnes and stood between them.  
But she was smarter than Tony gave her credit for. She twisted his arm up and behind his back, his fingers brushing the hair at the nape of his neck, and pulled out yet another blade.  
“You Avengers are driving our costs up, I have to keep buying knives. Now if you want to see Steve, you’ll come with me, and you,” she said, pointing the knife at Barnes, “if you don’t want Captain Rogers to abandon you because you let his lover die, you will also come with me. Glad we have reached an understanding.”  
She dragged Tony off, still unsteady on his feet. And then they reached a room, nothing but a weird metal cabinet and a metal table, like a mortuary slab, in it. She indicated with the knife, Barnes walking obediently into the cabinet. There was a hiss then the glass seemed to crystallise, ice forming across the window of the cabinet. Sin then forced Tony down onto the metal slab.  
“Oh you will be perfect. Another asset, ushering a new age. A new dawn for Hydra.”  
She strapped him down and plucked another blue dart from somewhere Tony didn’t even want to guess at. Yet another jab to his neck and he felt nauseous.  
“Now, tell me how to create a miniaturised arc reactor.”  
Oh god anything but that. He had to do something. He bit his lip so hard it bled, words still tumbling out but they were nonsense, formulas all wrong and crashing into each other and not balancing and he needed Steve.  
“Smart guy, but I know that’s not right. C’mon a smart guy should know better.”  
“That’s the thing about smart guys, we always cover our asses.”  
He flicked the knife he had slipped from Sin’s back pocket and it struck her square in the gut. With a groan she fled. And then Tony was freeing himself from his leather restraints. He smashed open the human freezer which Barnes burst out of with a yelp, sending Tony flying across the room. His back slammed against the wall and he slid down. That hurt. That really hurt. Cracked a rib or two maybe. But Barnes climbed out of the freezer and took in the slumped figure. He stepped carefully over to Tony and helped him to his feet.  
“Wanna get outta here?” he asked, hooking a mask around his jaw and holding a pair of goggles in his hand.  
“Steve?”  
“Yeah, Steve,” Barnes agreed.

 

No wonder Jarvis didn’t find any secret rooms, the secret rooms were hidden in air vents. Barnes helped him crawl through until they reached the server room. His armour was nowhere to be seen, everything as it was before he ever entered the room. Gripping hold on the metal arm, Tony was limping along down corridors using James as a crutch. Finally they reached the exit, open skies above them with a fiery red sunset throwing shadows across their faces. And that’s when they heard the yelling.  
“Tony, oh thank god.”  
Tall, Blond, and Handsome came barrelling up to them, only to be stopped by an outstretched arm from the Black Widow.  
“Cap, he’s Hydra. The man with the metal arm.”  
It took a moment for the relief to pass before taking in Tony. Bruised and battered Tony being held up by a stranger with dark brown hair and a mask.  
“Step the hell away from him.”  
He immediately obeyed with hands held up in surrender, but Tony wobbled dangerously and almost fell flat on his face. James reached forward with a steadying grip to Tony’s arm.  
“I said get the fuck away from him,” Steve snarled, starting forward with clenched fists.  
He raised his arm and shield, ready to strike if need be. But there was no need. Tony caught hold of his arm with a loose grin, even as he wavered on his feet.  
“You will regret doing that.”  
Steve just stared at the genius, whose pupils were dilated and the swaying on his feet was getting very worrying.  
“Tony sweetie, are you okay? Where hurts?”  
“I have a headache, and my stomach hurts, and my back is agony.”  
Everyone was staring at Tony, except Barnes who had his eyes darting between Steve and Natasha.  
“You- you were honest. I mean… you actually told the truth.”  
“I do that quite a lot. Yet people are always surprised.”  
Steve smiled a little, but it faded as Tony’s head lolled against him with eyes that were struggling to stay open.  
“Tired?”  
Tony nodded with a murmured ‘uh-huh’, full body weight now leaning against Steve, even with the stabilising grip of the Winter Soldier. Which he soon released, stepping back and away from Steve’s aggressive stance.  
“Why does your back hurt?”  
Tony groaned against Steve’s throat. Steve carefully turned Tony in his arms, lifting the once pale grey top. Only now it was stained with blood. Gingerly he splayed his fingers across damaged skin, dry blood flaking off the tender wounds. The slight movement of Tony’s shoulders tore the thin cuts open anew. A quiet pained hiss escaped the smaller man as Steve’s fingers traced the etching into flesh. A circle with tentacles spread across it. The Hydra symbol carved into his lover like he was nothing more than a thanksgiving turkey.  
“You did this,” Steve stormed, glaring at the soldier standing silent.  
“Steve, no,” Tony said slowly, sluggish blinks as he tried to keep his focus on Steve, “he helped me. Sin, she- she made me, I’m sorry Steve, I couldn’t stop it and I’m sorry Steve, everyone, I am so sorry.”  
The repeated apologies finally drew Steve’s attention away from the stoic soldier, fingers unhooking Tony’s from where they were clasped in a death grip against his uniform, squeezing his hand in reassurance. Tony was both trying to pull away from Steve and crawl as close against him as possible, all while giving non-stop apologies. Bruce had leant over Tony’s huddled form, taking in the blown pupils and the pinches around the eyes.  
“Steve, he’s been drugged-“  
“Again,” Tony added helpfully.  
“Again,” Bruce conceded, “Tony, what did they give you?”  
Tony shrugged and for the first time in the team’s presence Barnes spoke.  
“Sodium Pentothal.”  
Steve’s head jerked up in recognition but confusion and worry clouded his memory. Fast replaced by anger.  
“You did this.”  
Pursuant of speech, Barnes simply nodded a rigid and jerking movement. Steve’s hand clenched into a fist, only to be wrapped in Tony’s hands.  
“You’ll regret it.”  
“You keep saying that.”  
“He’s a friend, well, he’s your friend. War-time buddy.”  
Steve just stared at Tony, before seating them both on the floor, Bruce, Thor and Natasha separating them from the Soldier. Clint was eyeing them all from his perch.  
“Tony, all the people I knew from the war are either old and grey or-“ the final word catching in his throat.  
Tony shook his head.  
“Most.”  
He then looked at the soldier who sighed. The first sign of emotion they could make out from behind the mask. Slowly he reached up and pulled the goggles from his eyes, skin covered in dark make-up.  
“My eyeliner is better than his,” muttered Natasha, earning a concealed smile from the soldier.  
Then he reached up and unhooked the lower half of the mask from behind his ears. And Steve just froze. The colour drained entirely from his face, leaving it a sickly grey pallor. People seemed to be talking, but no words reached his ears. Except those spoken by a dead man.  
“I guess I couldn’t make it ‘til the end of the line. I’m sorry.”  
And there was so much regret and shame and blame, so much guilt laced into that voice, that Steve stood shakily to his feet and ensnared the soldier in what should have been a bone crushing hug (except serum is a wonderful thing).  
“Bucky,” and even his voice was shaking.  
But the soldier stood there awkwardly for a few seconds until he brought up his flesh hand to return the hug. The metal arm was kept decidedly out the way.  
“I’m sorry Steve.”  
But Steve just shushed him.  
“You, you’re alive. You’re here and alive and here. And you got him out. And you’re alive. You are actually alive.”  
“Sorry to ruin the mood,” Clint cut in over comms, “but what the _hell_ is going on?”  
Thor and Bruce nodded their agreement of his statement, although the latter’s attention was taken up mostly with medical checks on the team’s favourite mechanic. Said mechanic being unusually amenable to the checks and still apologising profusely.  
“The Winter Soldier is Steve’s best friend, Bucky. Tony was drugged. Sodium Pentothal, or truth serum. They were trying to get information from him,” surmised Natasha.  
Barnes nodded as Tony fell still and silent. He stared down at the ground, not attempting to reciprocate when Steve pressed a kiss to his cheek. Natasha watched the little scene before her play out, Tony slowly shuffling away from Steve in silence, utter distraught and guilt set on his face.  
“And they got information from him. About us?” she asked the soldier.  
“Yes, but honestly it was nothing particularly useful. She asked for all of your weaknesses. He didn’t have anything much for either of you,” Barnes said with a look at Natasha and the roof where he could just make out the Archer perching, “for you he said confidence issues,” he aimed at Bruce with a raised eyebrow, Banner just chuckling in response, “but you. He mentioned several names in connection to yours. Darcy, Selvig, and Jane, as well as your brother.”  
Thor’s mouth twitched into a smile.  
“They would have a hard time deceiving my brother. And Darcy, Selvig, and Jane are all beyond Hydra’s reach. At the agreement of my mother, they have been allowed to study the magic of Asgard.”  
“ _Riiiight_ ,” Barnes said sceptically, “and I thought I was mad. Asgard?”  
“Realm of the Gods,” Natasha helpfully interjected.  
“Alright then, and Steve…” Barnes closed his eyes, trying to tune out the faint whimpers a drugged Tony was making “…Tony basically said you care too much. That you would sacrifice yourself without thought to spare the person in harm,” Steve smiled sadly in response, at least until Bucky continued, “he then proceeded to keep bringing you up, going so far as to say he loved you. Basically he’s painted a massive target on his own back because Hydra now knows they can get to you through him. Plus he’s… well he’s only human. Hydra consider him a threat, and a weak one when out the suit.”  
Abject horror filled Steve’s eyes as he stared down at the cowering Tony. Quickly he pulled him into a hug, whispering reassurances into his hair. Tony was just shaking his head against Steve’s chest, rejecting any comfort the man was offering.  
“She asked about the arc and I managed to lie, well not lie, tell her things in the wrong order, she thought I was lying, I couldn’t stop it and it came out and-“  
“Tony, it’s okay. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your fault,” Steve said, voice so full of conviction that Tony could do nothing but accept it, “and you found him, you brought him back to me.”  
“Is it okay that he’s here?” Tony asked tentatively, clearly worried the shock of his lover’s best friend seemingly rising from the grave might unhinge said lover at least a little.  
Steve nodded, pulling away from Tony a little to stare at Bucky, still traces of disbelief in his eyes. Bucky’s mouth quirked into a small uncertain smile, faltering a little under Steve’s heavy gaze.  
“Right, so the heartfelt reunion is done for now right?”  
Steve nodded at Tony, mouth curling into a smile of his own.  
“Well now seems as good a time as any to-“  
Tony’s eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped bonelessly into Bruce’s lap.

 

He woke up in his own warm feather soft bed. There were fingers against his wrist, feeling for a pulse, and warm hands carefully rubbing his back. Somnolence invaded his mind again, trying to drag him back into a warm and peaceful sleep. Except he couldn’t, he needed Steve to understand.  
“Morning Tony, how are you feeling?” came Bruce’s warm voice somewhere in the direction his arm was being held.  
Tony groaned in response, burying his face into pillows. A muffled “where’s Steve?” left his mouth before he had time to think it through.  
“Right here, sweetie. How are you feeling?”  
The warm hands on his back stilled as Steve spoke.  
“ ‘m fine, are you mad?”  
And Tony hated that, that desperate need for reassurance, that pleading tone in his voice. But he needed Steve like he needed oxygen and the thought of losing him had fast become a fear worse than drowning and space and oh god he needed to stop thinking about that otherwise he would have a panic attack and that wouldn’t be doing anyone any favours. What if Steve was only with him out of pity? He was screw up and Steve was Steve, the ever-patient, ever-present, ever-team leader assigned to fix Tony’s fuck-ups and he shouldn’t be doing this to him. He’d just exhaust and break the man he loves and-  
“I’m not mad Tony. I’m just sorry you had to go through that and that we couldn’t find you.”  
And Steve’s tone was laced with guilt, more guilt that Tony had ever heard in Steve’s voice.  
“Hydra is going to come after you, because of me. I’m sorry Tony.”  
Tony sat bolt upright, despite the burning fire of pain that engulfed his back. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s middle with a very decisive sounding “It was not _your_ fault.” The sound of someone clearing their throat drew everyone’s gaze to the doorway.  
“It errr… It could have been a lot worse,” muttered Bucky, shifting anxiously against the doorframe.  
“What do you mean?” Banner asked, since Steve was just staring like he’d seen a ghost, the perpetual state he seemed to be in around Bucky now.  
“They – Hydra – had plans for him. They wanted to make him another… another me. An assassin and engineer for Hydra. And then they would have used him against you.”  
Everyone was silent in the wake of this statement, Bucky looking distinctly ashamed.  
“And there’s… there’s something else. May I – if it’s okay – can I speak to Tony alone?”  
Banner glanced at Steve then Tony, before moving to leave hesitantly after receiving a nod from the injured engineer. Steve just stared Bucky down, unsure but resolutely _not_ moving. Tony sighed.  
“I think this is the part I say ‘whatever you have to say to me, you can say in front of Steve’. But both of us know that goes unsaid.”  
Steve smiled softly at Tony, even as Tony gestured for Barnes to continue.  
“Alright then…” Bucky said, struggling to form the words, “it’s just Tony – Mr Stark – your… your parent’s death,” Tony swallowed audibly, tensing as though he could sense what was coming next, staring at Barnes who had his eyes closed tight against the weight of what he’d done, what he had to confess, “I’m responsible. I… killed them.”  
Tony drew in a deep breath then exhaled loudly, steeling himself for what he was to say next.  
“No you didn’t. The Winter Soldier did-“  
“But I am-“  
“No,” Tony cut in shortly, “no you aren’t. You are Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, of the 107 th and best friend of Steven Grant Rogers and Captain America. Part of the Howling Commandos. You are not what they tried to make you into. I’ll never forgive Hydra for what they did to my family – and yes, I actually already knew Hydra did it, though I think Obie ordered it but where was I going with this? Oh right. Hydra did this, not you. Because I am certain if they ordered the mule-headed James Barnes to kill someone, he would have refused even if it meant the cost of his own life. I saw you with them don’t forget. I know you were conditioned somehow.”  
Barnes stared a little in awe.  
“You seem to think you know me.”  
“I don’t, he does,” Tony replied, cocking his head in Steve’s direction, “he had and still has faith in you and so do I. Now he might be on edge because y’know, murderous assassin was holding his boyfriend who was drugged and bruised and scratched,” Steve made a huff of disbelief, “something to add sweetie?” Tony asked sardonically.  
“It was hardly a scratch.”  
“Whatever, I’m fine,” a snort of derision from Steve, “So yeah, protective boyfriend is protective. I mean he wouldn’t leave me alone with just Bruce, let alone you. But he still believes in you and so do I.”  
Steve nodded in agreement, slipping his hand into Tony’s under the covers. Barnes nodded awkwardly and saluted them before leaving the room. Tony turned to look at Steve, with a look of mild disgust and curiosity.  
“Why is your hand slimy?”  
Steve barked out a laugh.  
“Why is that the first thing you ask me? Nothing about Bucky being in your tower, or how you got home. Just that my hand is ‘slimy’.”  
“You were here, of course I would be-“  
Tony started but cut himself short, leaving the unspoken hanging in the air. As long as Steve was with him, he would be fine. That unspoken belief had Steve grinning, even as he leaned forward to hide his face against Tony’s neck and just breathe. The familiar smell of coffee and expensive cologne and oil and engine grease clung to the man like a second skin, and he was so so glad and relieved that he had even one more day to memorise everything about the man he loved so immensely.  
“Uh Steve, seriously, why are your hands slimy?”  
Steve shook himself from his mind and grinned at the man.  
“Bio-oil. Meant to help with scars. Once Doctor Banner cleaned up your back, I figured I’d try it. I know you hate scars, and well…”  
Tony was grinning at Steve, like he was the sun and the centre of the universe – which to Tony, he was – with unfathomable depths of love shining in his eyes.  
“Ti ho mai detto quanto ti amo?”  
“I have no idea what that means,” Steve smiled at him, pressing a gentle kiss to pouting lips.  
“I’m teaching you Italian someday. Ma per ora il mio amore, si dovrà accontentare del fatto che ti amo più di caffè e il mio laboratorio insieme e tuttavia non posso dirvi.”  
“Something about coffee, I think. Want me to make you a cup?”  
Tony rolled back onto his stomach, chest resting against Steve’s stomach, chin resting on the backs of his own hands. He gazed into loving blue eyes, thinking that those eyes were the only thing he would happily drown in.  
“Nah, but thanks. Is it okay if we just stay here?”  
Steve ran his hands through dark curls, eliciting a sigh from his lover. Tony’s eyes dipped closed on a soft sigh.  
“Ti amo.”  
“I love you too.”

 

Tony watched from down the corridor, fully aware that his presence had been realised before he’d even decided to stay and eavesdrop. He had been watching Natasha and Bucky speak fluently in Russian, the raw tones of Bucky’s voice and the soft melodic hum of Natasha’s as they spoke softly to each other.  
“Это становится легче.”  
“Разве?” and the doubt was palpable in his voice, even if Tony couldn’t understand him.  
“Да. Со временем, и с нужными людьми, чтобы стоять на вашей стороне.”  
“Но будут ли они стоять со мной?”  
"Без сомнений."  
"Откуда ты это знаешь?"  
"Они остались со мной, несмотря на мои сомнительного прошлого."  
She patted his arm and walked down the corridor towards to Tony. But not before calling out over her shoulder.  
"Просто подумай об этом."  
"Я буду. О, и кстати, я целился в дымном эффекта глаз"  
Tony watched the entire interlude, with the feeling he walked in on something distinctly personal and private. But Natasha breezed past him with barely a twitch of emotion. Barnes strode up to him, his flesh hand outstretched.   
“Thank you for your hospitality Mr St-“   
“Tony.”   
“Tony. But I need to finish what’s been started.”   
“Meaning?”   
“I’m taking down Hydra,” Bucky growled, a low rumble in his throat.   
“Yeah, no. _We_ are taking down Hydra.”   
“This is something I have to do on my own.”   
Tony sighed, realising he had finally met someone as stubborn as himself.   
“Okay. I understand your reasons. But stop by the tower when you can. So we know you are okay.”   
“I don’t need a babysitter.”   
“But according to Steve, I do. And he could use your help. So stop by. You always have a room here. Oh and take these.”   
Tony held out a bag, containing fresh clothes, a burner phone, and an untraceable credit card.   
“Mr St-“   
“Tony.”   
“Tony, I can’t take these.”   
Tony huffed out a laugh, “you kind of have to, otherwise Steve will have my head. Now, if you leave without saying goodbye to Steve, I’ll have your head.”   
Bucky laughed, short and bark-like, but an honest laugh nonetheless.   
“Will do. Thank you Mr St- Tony. How can I repay you?”   
Tony surveyed him seriously for a moment before settling on- “Let me have a poke about your arm, whenever you next stop by the tower.”   
Bucky stared at his arm, considering. Then he nodded, extremely seriously. Tony grinned, already examining the arm, barely able to contain his joy. With raised eyebrows, Bucky pulled his arm just out of reach, smirking at the comical disappointment on the mechanic’s face.   
“I have to find Steve.”   
“Right. Safe travels.”   
“Спасибо тебе за все. До свидания.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait, I've been working and had a severe lack of internet. So you get a massive load of chapters now to make up for it :) Thank you all for patiently waiting and the kudos and the comments :D I also inspired someone, who knew I was capable of that :S So thank you all again.


	21. Get Outta My Head and Into My Bed

# Chapter 21 – Get Outta My Head and Into My Bed

God that hurt. Really hurt. Like something pierced his brain. He also had a weirdly disconnected sense of panic. Like he knew it was panic but he wasn’t feeling it. What had Natasha taught him? When you wake up from being unconscious don’t let anyone know. If he’d been captured it would be a faster route to torture. Keep eyes closed, breathing minimal, don’t move. Focus. Okay, memory. What had happened? Terrorist. Bomb. Except not quite a terrorist. Sorceress. Yelling about… something. Focus. Yelling about… feelings? Was that it? Force them to acknowledge their feelings. Feel the pain of others. See what their actions do. The bomb… The bomb! He’d tried to diffuse it. And then… then… BOOM! Okay so he wasn’t kidnapped. But a bomb had blown up in his hand. God his thoughts were so sluggish. Okay, what could he feel? Fingers, hands, toes, feet all still attached. Chest? Arc was running fine. Head? Headache. Concussion? Non-existent at best, minimal at worst. So the bomb… short range, minimal damage. Hopefully he had contained the blast. Now factor in external stimuli. Smells. Tarmac, concrete, and hot pretzels. He was still on the streets of New York. Then something warmer, more comforting and more familiar. Chalk, oil paints, something citrus-y that smelled kind of like Steve’s new shower gel. Maybe Steve was nearby. God he felt woozy. Okay, concussion upgraded from minimal to mild. FOCUS. Sounds, what sounds are there? Sirens, loud and piercing sirens. Voices. So many voices. He tried to pick one out and focus on that but they were all blurring into one panicked fuzziness of white noise. For fuck’s sake, Tony, _focus._ He could hear one voice drifting in and out.   
“Tony…hear me? Squeeze my… hear me. You don’t get to fucking do this to me… damn hand.”   
He could feel anger behind the panic now, masking it. Plus a tiny stirring of guilt. He didn’t know why but that disconnected feeling made him really want to get his eyes open and get his voice working. He groggily opened his eyes, the HUD blaring bright warnings that made whatever headache he already had burst into a full-blown migraine. He groaned but opened up the faceplate to bright daylight, even though that made his head pound like kids with drums during an out of control music class. But once he opened his mask up he felt awash with that disconnected feeling, this time it was relief. He folded away a gauntlet and felt a hand immediately clasp around his.   
“If you can hear me Shellhead, you better damn well squeeze my hand.”   
The harsh tone was at complete odds with the growing sense of relief that mixed with… what was the word? Tony lost it. He squeezed the hand in his.   
“Steve?”   
“Yeah Tony, how do you feel?”   
Ache-y, tired, in need of ice for the top of his shoulders since he could feel the start of bruising there, migraine, concussion. Overall conclusion: in a medium amount of pain.   
“Fine, Steve. Can you turn down the light?”   
Steve leaned over him, blocking out the sun and kissing his nose, causing Tony to go cross-eyed as he followed the movement.   
“How is a medium amount of pain fine?”   
Huh. Tony was sure he said that in his head. Thought, thought that in his head.   
“You did,” Steve said confusedly.   
And Tony could feel the confusion, a little niggle in his head. But it was dismissed in exchange for anxious concern and affection.   
“This is weird,” Steve murmured, “but right now I just want you checked over. Then we’ll head home. Sound good?”   
Apparently Tony didn’t need to answer. He felt is own happiness intermingle with that disconcerting detached feeling of affection. Steve sat right by his side as medical people flitted about. Finally he was released, someone (probably Clint) having slipped sunglasses on him to help with his current light oversensitivity. He was vaguely aware of being walked onto the jet, being pulled away from the pilot’s seat, and settled down into a chair. Steve was running a hand through his hair and that felt so good he would have purred if he could. He could feel that removed sense again, of this feeling of delighted amusement. He didn’t want to give it much thought. Despite his concussion addled brain he still caught drips and drabs of conversation.   
“Do you have it too?”   
“How is he?”   
“Concussed, he thinks.”   
“Do you not get the thoughts too?”   
“Not often.”   
“I only get them sometimes. They have to be really clear and so far his only clear thought has been pain.”   
“Is this what that psycho meant?”   
Tony drifted off to sleep, eyes closed against the soft interior lights of the quinjet.

 

He awoke to questions, so many questions.   
“What is your full name?” came the rumble from his pillow.   
“Anthony Edward Stark, but if you ever call me that I will burn your sketchbook,” he muttered into his pillow bitterly.   
“What is the full name of the man you love?”   
“Clinton Francis Barton,” he could feel nervousness and sadness in his chest that didn’t belong to him, “okay, okay, I’m teasing. Amo Steven Grant Rogers. Il mio amore è Steven Grant Rogers.”   
He got a kiss for his efforts, which did sort of make up for being woken up. The nervousness also dissipated, the sadness gone.   
“What song did you give me a lap dance to?”   
“Wildest dreams by Taylor Swift, and I’d happily do it again because this time I get to touch and kiss what I like.”   
“When you are better maybe.”   
There we go, that is what Tony wanted. That tiny remaining separated feeling of worry faded, replaced by fond exasperation.   
“Maybe? You mean you didn’t enjoy it the first time round?” Tony asked devilishly, but with the most innocent tone.   
“I might have enjoyed it too much.”   
“No such thing with me, Captain.”   
“I think you can go back to sleep now.”   
Tony grinned, he knew he’d won that round.   
“You didn’t win.”   
That disconnected feeling turned to a disconnected voice. One that wanted Tony on his lap right now. Tony never gave that voice his own but he did climb lithely onto Steve, tucking his head into the junction of his neck and shoulder.   
“Sleep?”   
“Yeah, you can sleep Tony,” an arm snaked around his waist, pulling him tight against the chiselled chest.   
“Americano pasticcino.”   
“What did you call me?”   
But Tony was already asleep.

 

He woke again being tucked under a blanket on the couch. He could hear the quiet murmur of voices. Then they suddenly stopped.   
“He’s awake,” Steve said softly, Tony just able to hear the voices of the rest of the team.   
“How bad’s his concussion?”   
“Pretty bad, he didn’t seem to realise the extent. Tony can you roll onto your front for a moment.”   
His back felt cold as blankets were pulled down and his top pulled up a bit. There were a couple of gasps, and cold fingers that pressed delicately against his back. He shuddered in relief, the cool sensation relieving aches he didn’t even realise he could feel. The hand made to pull away but Steve stopped whoever it was.   
“He likes the cold, eases his muscles.”   
“This is weird as fuck you know.”   
“At least you have Coulson, I have some almost-but-not-quite-Russian dude who tried to kill me twice, with poor talent at make-up, and used to be Steve’s best friend.”   
Tony could feel disconnected sadness that felt so much worse than any melancholy he’d ever felt. He wanted it to stop, to make whatever – no, whoever – was hurting to feel better. He reached into his hair to capture the hand there. He pressed a kiss to the back of it, and squeezed gently. The knot of misery loosened as he trailed his fingers across the palm of Steve’s hand.   
“Not my fault yours in an ex-Hydra agent. Just creepy that it’s possible to, like, read each other.”   
The hand was back in Tony’s hair and that felt so good with the cold hand at his back. Someone with dextrous hands and calloused fingers was rubbing his feet. What had he done to deserve such luxury?   
“He looks like the cat that got the cream,” Natasha laughed.   
“I was a cat once,” Tony replied drowsily, “didn’t care for it.”   
There were a few muffled laughs, but just before he was allowed to drift off he had more of Steve’s incessant questions whispered in his ear.   
“Who do you love?”   
“Tu, mio amore,” Tony hummed back.   
“Where was our first kiss?”   
Tony frowned sleepily. This felt like a trick question.   
“Technically at the tower, but we were in a fairy-tale village created by a bunch of toddlers with magic abilities.”   
“One last one, what’s your favourite colour?”   
“Your eyes,” Tony smiled and he felt something else swell in his chest.   
A feeling he recognised but it still felt detached. Surprise but there was more. Love. He could feel Steve’s love. He could feel it as part of himself. Eh he’d deal with it later. For now he enjoyed people taking care of him. The cold hands had been removed and now a cold compress was across his shoulders. The hands massaging his feet had somehow jumped to his lower back. And Steve’s hand was still brushing through his hair. He couldn’t feel more relaxed if he tried. And he drifted easily back to sleep.

 

Tony woke up in a pile of warm bodies. Not for the first time. Although the bodies were various teammates. Still not for the first time. When you fight evil on a thrice weekly basis you sort of get so tired you drop where you stand. Tony didn’t, but then again coffee was a wonderful thing. He was lying completely down Steve’s side on the sofa, blanket covering them both. Clint was using Steve’s abandoned slippers as a pillow, fuzzy eagle design that Tony bought for Steve as a joke (he loved them anyway). Coulson was trapped in Clint’s arms, head against one of his forearms. Natasha was nowhere to be seen. Tony pushed himself up on an elbow, taking in the peaceful feeling in his chest. Except for the fact that when he moved it felt like every nerve in his back was on fire. He even checked to make sure it wasn’t. Steve gasped awake next to him, hand reaching out to clutch his back.   
“Tony are you okay?” Tony nodded, but moved to get up.   
Steve followed carefully, picking their way across the sprawled bodies. Thor was lying spread-eagled across the floor, Tony tiptoeing around his various limbs. He made it to the bathroom without disturbing anyone, and pulled up his shirt. His back was black and blue, entirely bruised. Gingerly, he felt through his hair, finding an egg sized lump at the back.   
“So what happened? The details are a little fuzzy.”   
Tony looked at Steve in the mirror, dawn light displaying the vision of worry and apprehension matching that gnawing distant feeling.   
“Well, we were fighting Amora, and she was making some grand speech about her love for Thor and how she’d get him to admit his feelings for her when she launched some sort of bomb at him. The world’s biggest idiot caught it-“   
“Clint caught it?”   
Steve just gave him a look.   
“Oh. I caught it, didn’t I?”   
“Yes you did,” Steve pulled him in for a kiss, loving and tender as if he might never get to again, “you tried to diffuse it but… I’m not quite sure but you said you couldn’t. And then…”   
Steve’s face crumpled, covering it with his hands. He tried to take a few steadying breaths but they came out as shuddering sobs. Fear. A consuming black hole of fear, a wormhole of emotion, empty and dark. Tony felt sick to his stomach, the only cure was having his loved one in his arms this very moment. He moved into Steve's waiting arms, hugging him tightly and hiding his face in the other’s neck. He ignored all the shooting pains in his back, as the feeling of sickness eased.   
“And then the bomb went off,” Tony finished.   
Steve nodded silently. Tony could feel his own fear now, the thought of losing Steve like poison in his mind, eating him away into a paranoid state. Until a few of Steve’s words cut that ugly parasite out of him.   
“I’m not going anywhere Tony,” Steve said warmly.   
“How is it you know what I’m thinking?” Tony questioned tensely.   
“Calm down Tony.”   
Steve’s hands were open and placating, but Tony pushed them away.   
“Don’t tell me to calm down, you calm down. What _aren’t_ you telling me Steve?”   
Steve mouthed, goldfishing around words. Tony threw his hands in the air in frustration and made to leave the room, only to have Steve snag at his wrist.   
“Okay Tony, okay. Just don’t, don’t freak out… the bomb had certain… magical properties. And now, now as far as we can tell, and we had magic users look into this, Doctor Strange and Loki, but people are connected to their... soulmates.”   
Tony paled drastically. Soulmate. He, no. He couldn’t have a, no. No. How could Steve be his, no. Steve was too, too everything Tony wasn’t. No. Soulmate, but that meant…   
“Please stop freaking out.”   
“Who’s freaking out, I’m not freaking out, I’m just curious about the bomb and the magical qualities it possesses.”   
Tony’s voice was rising to a frankly alarming pitch as he spoke.   
“Tony it’s okay, please. We’ll find a way to fix it.”   
Tony was just standing in shock, every thought running into each other, no train of thought or it derailed or crashed but nothing was clear and everything was not quite right. He didn’t want to be Steve’s soulmate; that made it sound like they were forced together. But that was wrong. It had to be wrong. Fate didn’t decide. Tony did. Tony chose Steve. And Steve had chosen Tony, out of everyone in the world. Except if they were soulmates then there was no choice. Steve was just stuck with him. Then he felt it. The disappointment, Steve’s disappointment and anger and misery. And he had caused it. This is why he couldn’t be Steve’s soulmate. They were no way near close to perfect for each other.   
“It’s okay Tony, you need space. I get it.”   
One second Steve was next to him, holding his hand, and the next he was gone. Just left. Leaving Tony standing in the bathroom, confused and alone and bereft of Steve’s presence. It took all of 6.8 seconds for Tony to decide to follow Steve. 6.8 seconds too long because, damn, the super soldier could move fast. Tony ran down the hall, sliding to a halt in front of closed elevator doors.   
“Jarvis, elevator please.”   
“Sorry Sir, it has already descended.”   
“Damn, send it back up. Has Steve-“   
“I am afraid Captain Rogers has already exited the building.”   
“Damn, any idea where he’s going?”   
“He failed to discuss that information with me.”   
“Did he take his sketchbook?”   
“Affirmative sir.”   
“I have an idea where he’s going.”

 

The sun was setting, making the sea glitter like diamonds in the dark. Closing his sketchpad with a sense of finality, Steve glanced up across the boardwalk. Hands coated in graphite and charcoal dust but the sketch of the Cyclone was complete and he felt better, if only slightly. He had been expecting unease and nervousness from Tony but the full blown terror and fear weren’t entirely within what he thought he’d get from the genius. Truth be told he thought Tony would be happy, they said they loved each other. And part of Steve, the part that still flinched when people coughed and still felt a bit at odds with his size and strength and speed, feared that Tony lied. That he said it to make Steve feel better. And he hated that doubt, because he loved Tony, he trusted Tony. Phone buzzing in his pocket, he expected to see Tony on the caller ID, instead it showed Clint’s.   
“Hey Barton,” Steve said, answering the call.   
“Hey Cap, Tony with you? I’ve been ringing but no answer. Wanted to ask him something.”   
A voice called out in the background.   
“His phone’s in the workshop, saw it on his desk when I went to drop off my results for him to look over,” Bruce’s voice buzzed over the phone.   
“So where’s Tony?” Steve asked, a sense of panic mounting.   
“Don’t know, haven’t seen him since last night, the two of you weren’t here this morning. I assumed he was with you. Also have you seen Tasha? She’s gone AWOL too.”   
“Tony’s not with me,” Panic was high in his voice, “I’ve got to find him.”   
“Woah Cap, calm down. I’m sure he’s fine. We’ll see what Jarvis can find.”   
Steve hung up and took off at a run.

 

That was dumb, really dumb. He’d left without his phone, his wallet, his keys, literally anything useful. Just everything was Steve and his only thought was trying to catch up to the super soldier. His feet hurt and the walk towards Coney Island was taking fucking ages. But he was close now. Steve would be around here somewhere, the sense of nostalgia curled up in Tony’s mind, oddly detached. Yells caught his wandering attention and slowed his feet.   
“Gay little fag! Why don’t you just go suck a dick!”   
Tony glanced down an alley way, thrown into partial darkness by the setting sun. There was a figure curled on the floor, two older looking boys kicking him, a third just off to the side holding something up. A phone, the light setting his face aglow. His lips were turned up into a cruel sneer, eyes filled with hatred and a sick sort of joy. Tony sauntered up, smirk plastered on his face.   
“Evening, and may I ask what you are doing?”   
“Move on old man, this doesn’t concern you.”   
Tony outright laughed in their faces, “Oh yes it does. For you see, not only are you committing a crime that could see you in prison for a very, _very_ long time but you are using my technology to do it.”   
“Your tech? Who the fuck do you think you are?”   
“Tony Stark,” he replied nonchalantly.   
Even in the dark, Tony could see disbelieving eyes narrowed at the mention of his name.   
“And you’d protect this fag here?”   
“I guess you missed the press conference but myself and Captain America are dating. Seeing each other. So if you have a problem with his sexuality then you also have a problem with mine. Therefore I am going to see to it that this kid gets the very best of lawyers to put you all behind bars for as long as the law allows. Even if I wasn’t bi, I’d make sure you end up in jail. Because you, my ignorant homophobe, are a bully. And I hate bullies.”   
“You can’t do that.”   
“You want to know something kid,” Tony told the ringleader, the only one speaking up to him, “this country is corrupt as anything. This country is only the land of the free if you have the money to buy it. And guess what kid, I got a hell of a lot of money. So either you hand me that phone and leave right now, or I fund this kid in making sure you can’t _ever_ repeat this hate crime.”   
The dark haired teen holding the phone reluctantly handed it into Tony’s awaiting palm. Then they scarpered, Tony shouting after them.   
“Don’t mess with him again,” his voice ice cold.   
The kid who’d been kicked in the dirt struggled to his feet, accepting Tony’s proffered hand to help him up. He brushed off his dark jeans, bruised and battered but nothing too serious. He grinned brightly, despite the swelling around his mouth and the dark bruises circling his right eye.   
“Thank you Mr Stark, I owe you one.”   
“Who were those kids?” Tony intoned sharply.   
“Oh, y’know, people in my grade and… my brother.”   
“Your brother,” Tony seethed.   
“Yeah, my parents… they disowned me when I… came out. Not long after your press conference actually. A friend took me in.”   
Tony settled a little but it took more than the usual level of effort to stop him wheeling around and finding that brother. He didn’t even know what he’d do but it would probably end up in the papers and cause Pepper some problems. Hell he’d probably caused her problems already.   
“You injured anywhere?” Tony asked as he glanced the kid up and down.   
“Don’t think so, bruised and scraped but they’ve done worse.”   
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tony confessed, “anything I can do to help?”   
“A lift home would be amazing.”   
“I’ll see what I can do,” Tapping on the phone, he summoned Happy to them, “What’s your name kid?”   
“Matthew.”   
“Well Matthew, this is Happy, my driver. He’ll get you home safe. And take this,” Tony added, holding out the phone, “leverage, protects you a bit longer.”   
Matthew climbed ungainly into the car, legs and arms too long for his body.   
“Thank you Mr Stark, seriously.”   
“No problem, I’ve been there. Contact me if they hassle you again, I wasn’t joking about the lawyers. Just come by the tower.”   
Tony shut the door in Matthew’s face, who was laughing and turned to speak to Happy.   
“Get this kid home.”   
He patted the roof of the car twice and Happy zoomed off, an out of breath Steve on the other side. Tony stared down at the floor, looking embarrassed and shuffling from foot to foot.   
“Hi Steve,” Tony glanced up shyly.   
“Tony,” Steve breathed, reverence clear in his voice.   
And in a stride he was up in Tony’s space, hands running down arms as physical assurance that Tony was fine.   
“Tony, are you an idiot? He could have had a knife, a gun, anything. You were scared.”   
“Shhhh,” Tony hissed, trying to hide a weakness that was plain to see, “don’t go telling people. Just, can you not be in my head. It’s not a place anyone wants to be.”   
“Alright Tony, but what were you thinking! If they had-“   
“I know Steve, but what was I supposed to do, leave the kid there? I hate bullies and someone had to step in. So many people just walked past and ignored it.”   
Steve nodded and pulled his partner into an almost crushing hug. Tony sagged against him, bringing his own arms up to return the hug, stroking soothingly down Steve’s back.   
“You were painting at Coney Island weren’t you?”   
“Sketching but yeah, how’d you know?”   
Tony chuckled, a little self-deprecating and a little regretful.   
“I panicked earlier because I thought you were stuck with me. It took me a while but I realised you are. Stuck with me that is. And not because of some crap fate or because some enchantress decides we are soulmates but because you walking out terrified me.”   
Steve kissed him, softly, nothing more than a gentle press of lips at Tony’s unknowing declaration of love.   
“You are my soulmate Tony, so deal with it.”   
Tony beamed against his lips, before kissing back nipping softly at Steve’s lower lip. The moan Steve made mirrored the arousal Tony felt both within himself and that dissociated feeling that he knew belonged to Steve. And feeling Steve on a level deeper than just physical was heady, intoxicating, Tony feeling rather punch drunk. Tony deepened the kiss, pulling himself closer into Steve’s loving embrace.   
“Tony, not in an alley way,” Steve whimpered as Tony kissed his neck.   
Tony pulled back with a nod, and began pulling Steve along.   
“Where-?”   
“Back home.”

 

Tony didn’t realise he had a thing for being manhandled but holy fuck, the moment Steve had him pressed again the wall of the elevator, the bedroom door, spread out on the bed beneath hungry blue eyes. Well, that had become a massive kink for him. Just to not be in control for once, to be able, to be allowed to dedicate all thoughts to all things Steve. And despite that, and the fact Tony was _never_ one to romanticise sex, to Tony this could only ever be called ‘making love’. He could feel Steve’s intense gaze even as he looked away, the heat of it causing a blush to spread across his cheeks and chest. And still with that disconnected feeling, so warm. There was admiration as Steve kissed his way across Tony’s chest and stomach, adoration at the gasps Tony made when Steve kissed his neck, and adulation whenever Steve met his eyes. But it was the mesmerisation that had captured Steve. He was staring down at the arc, face lit ethereal by the pale blue glow. Vulnerable, exposed, he felt more naked when people stared at that than anything else. All of him laid bare. But here, now, with Steve’s hand hovering over it. It felt more right and more natural than anything else in the world. Tony brought Steve’s hand down, covering the light and bathing them both in darkness. And he could feel Steve relax, both in body and mind as Steve swooped down to kiss him. But even in this moment, however much he wanted to continue, he had to check, had to make sure that Steve wanted this and was ready for this.   
“Are y-?”   
“Yeah,” Steve answered immediately.   
“Going to let me finish?”   
“That sentence? No. But what we are doing here? Definitely,” Steve grinned, innocently and wickedly all at once.   
“But are you sure you want this? Your first time… with me…?” he asked, hating that gut churning anxiety that had gnawed its way into his stomach.   
“Can I have a moment to think about that?” Steve teased, “of course I am. I love you.”   
It was stated so plainly and sincerely, so openly, that Tony could do nothing but stammer. He could feel the truth in every single one of Steve’s words, a feeling of euphoria that far surpassed any he’d ever experienced. Time soon slipped away from them as they spent minutes and hours learning what felt right and memorising every second. Steve collapsed back onto the bed next to Tony, sweat-slick hair swept away from his face, a few errant strands stubbornly covering his eyes.   
“Fuck,” Steve said breathlessly.   
“Mmm,” Tony agreed, “we just did. If you want to go again I need a few minutes.”   
“Let’s just lie here.”   
And they did, Steve perfectly happy with Tony pressed against his side. The silence stretched out, nothing disturbing it but for the soft breathes and movement of their chests. And in his mind, Steve could feel Tony’s edginess that was belying his eased exterior. But he never had a chance to discuss it, as Tony let out a loud snore as he fell fast asleep.

 

~Epilogue~

It was horrifying. He could only watch. Tony was shoved beneath the water again and again, and endless loop of death, like a song stuck on repeat. The horror never faded, never diminished with the repetition; only grew in intensity. A constant fear of ‘would this be the last time and Steve couldn’t save him?’. Doomed to watch those bubbles escape his lips as he could see consciousness fade, could see his lover’s life slip away before his eyes. But it got worse. He could feel the fear, Tony’s fear. Even crashing the plane had nothing on this. At least that was his choice. But this. The sense of powerlessness and the all-consuming sense of cold and the internal pleading of a man caught between wanting to fight and wanting to die. ‘Please, just let me die’ versus ‘I will tear you apart and feed you your own entrails’. ‘If there is a god, then he shows me no mercy’ versus ‘you better hope there is no afterlife because you aren’t going to the good kind’. It was the greatest relief when Tony woke them both up, breaking himself from the dream and dragging Steve’s consciousness with him. Tony was shaking like a leaf, head swivelling as eyes darted around the room. Steve placed a hand on his thigh, causing Tony to startle so badly he knocked the bedside lamp off his end table.   
“Hey Tony, it’s me. You’re okay. We are in the Avengers Tower.”   
But his eyes still scanned the room wildly. Steve placed his hands on either side of his face and pulled him around to meet his own gaze. For the briefest second their eyes met, before Tony screwed his own tightly closed.   
“No, no, no, no-“   
“Tony open your eyes, you need to see you aren’t there.”   
But thoughts that weren’t his own crossed his mind. ‘Oh god, Steve was in the cave, he was in the cave. They were going to torture Steve. This was followed by mounting hysteria, a sharp knot in Tony’s stomach, mimicked in Steve’s own body. Steve had to force himself calm, focus so entirely on something that wasn’t Tony here and now, trying to get traces of different thoughts in his head. He focused on something he’d been sketching, a scene from a few days ago where Tony was designing with his holograms. Beauty in simplicity, Tony lit blue by the glow of the lights. It took a good ten minutes of just being focused on that image before he realised the knot was slowly untying, allowing him to breathe again. He pulled his attention back to the Tony in front of him. A Tony who was very stubbornly faking being asleep. He held his body rigid, for someone who usually wriggled about in his sleep so much he usually ended up draped over Steve or half out the bed, and Steve wasn’t buying his little charade. But with Tony in no mood to talk Steve had to let it go for tonight.

 

“You cannot just summon me like Mephisto.”   
“I prefer to appeal to gods than make deals with the devil.”   
Loki jumped from branch to branch above Tony’s head. Finally he leapt down to a blown over tree, landing on the trunk.   
“And what is it you seek from me Stark?”   
“Amora did this, I want out. I want all of us to have our enchantment broken. You will help.”   
“Will I?” Loki asked, clearly unimpressed.   
Although Tony remained unfazed. He leant back against the tree, admiring the landscape of Central Park.   
“Okay, I will play along with your game. What makes you think I will help? What do I stand to gain?”   
“You’ll be a good guy.”   
“Is that all you can offer?”   
“Do I need to offer more?”   
Loki feel silent, pensive for a moment or two, “What makes you think I _can_ help?”   
“You are both of Asgard. You are both magical.”   
“There are many branches of magic. Lorelei or Amora are far more versed in those matters.”   
“You are the trickster god. Need I elaborate?”   
Loki smirked at him, “As it happens, flattery will get you everywhere. I will aid you. Give me your hand.”   
Tony extended his hand, expecting Loki to shake it or… something. Instead Loki just stared at it, looking confused.   
“Palm up, have you never done this before?”   
“Had a magical enchantment that connects me to my soulmate removed by a Norse trickster god? Nope, first time. Which is a rarity in my life, you better appreciate it.”   
Loki just waved his hand over Tony’s, something black and inky spreading across his palm. The ink soaked into his skin, travelling up his veins. Then, a heartbeat later, he felt empty. But the hollow feeling crumbled away fading into fear. But fear that Tony had never known before. It was like if you took all the world’s terror, all the darkness and spiders and clowns, all the death and murder and depression, and liquidised it, slowly replacing his blood. He was nothing but fear. But then something sparked in that darkness, an ember bright in the gloom of his emotions. When he came back to himself, Tony was lying on damp grass.   
“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!”   
“Magic has limits, I needed to apply enough strain to the connection to break it. The connection is now broken.”   
“Please oh god (“Yes?”) tell me Steve didn’t feel any of that.”   
“Of course he felt something. Not quite what you felt but that is by the by. And I texted him.”   
“You texted him!” Tony exclaimed, staring in disbelief at the god, “wait you have a phone?”   
“Yes. You were out for half an hour. I thought if you were dead then the Captain should come and collect your corpse.”   
“How did you even get Steve’s number?”   
“From Jane.”   
“Wait, how did you get Jane’s number?”   
“Natasha.”   
“And Natasha?”   
“Thor.”   
“Why didn’t you get Steve’s number from Thor?”   
“I… didn’t think of that.”   
“Rather than debate who Loki should have gotten my number from,” Steve fumed, “how about we go home? Thanks Loki but I’ll deal with him now.”   
“Yeah thanks, Jack Frost.”

 

“What were you thinking?”   
“I didn’t want you to go through the dreams again.”   
“And this is better?” Steve asked, his voice desperate and scared, “at least then I knew what you were fucking thinking Tony.”   
The proud smile that he’d solved the problem dropped from his face.   
“I guess I wasn’t,” he conceded, “I just didn’t want you to feel that way. It’s bad enough I have them, this is one of the few things I do not, under any circumstances, want to share with you.”   
“But I could have helped,” Steve said softly, sadly, and a little helplessly.   
“No Steve,” Tony replied kindly, “you already have helped. I used to have them a lot more and sleep a lot less. But as much as I love you, having you in my head…”   
“You don’t want to put me through that…”   
“I _can’t_ put you through that.”   
Steve pulled Tony close and kissed him. Soft and tender and sweet, among the leaves and trees of the park.   
“I understand why you did it, just next time let me know yeah?”   
“Will do. What did you feel when the connection broke?”   
“Elation. If it weren’t for the serum I would have thought someone drugged me. Then just briefly before I woke up, there was a shadow. Why? What did you feel?”   
Tony smiled, and silently thanked Loki as he tucked himself under Steve’s arm.   
“Same.”  
Loki made sure Steve wouldn’t suffer. He was a good guy after all.


	22. Five Ways I say ‘I love you’, and six ways you say it back

# Chapter 22 - Five Ways I say ‘I love you’, and six ways you say it back

Giving Up Something You Love Because You Love Them More

It was movie night, Steve’s pick. Tony had set up the movie Steve requested as Steve and Clint found food for the group. For some reason Steve really enjoyed the Sherlock Holmes movies, saying that the actor who played Sherlock reminded him of Tony. Although he also said Natasha reminded him of whatshername in ‘Lucy’, so what did Steve know? It had been an incredibly stressful week for Tony, Stark Industries dropping several points for seemingly no reason which meant Tony had to pull overtime to try and get things back on track and reassure the investors. He could feel the ache in his bones and his face actually hurt from having to fix that damned smile on every minute. It felt like it had been a month since he had actually seen Steve for longer than a minute off the battlefield. He wanted nothing more than to have Steve at his side. Everyone settled down waiting for the return of food and its deliverers (but mostly excited about food). Steve and Clint returned with stacks of pizza boxes in their arms. Tony sat up a little, confused.  
“I thought you wanted Thai from that new place?”  
“I changed my mind,” Steve said with a soft smile, “got your favourite. Extra red pepper but no green.”  
He handed over a pizza box to Tony, before distributing what was still left in his arms. Everyone settled into the movie, Steve’s arm draped over Tony’s shoulders, Tony’s curled around Steve’s waist.  
“Want to try some?” Tony said, offering up a slice of his pizza.  
“But it’s your favourite,” Steve replied.  
“I don’t mind,” Tony just picked up a slice and placed it in Steve’s pizza box.  
Steve took a bite, groaning at the taste as rich and almost sweet barbeque complemented salty bacon and sharp red onion.  
“That’s really good.”  
Tony picked up three more slices, placing them in Steve’s box again, pinching one slice of Steve’s sweet chilli chicken.  
“Tony?”  
Tony’s mouth half quirked in response.  
“I don’t mind for you, now shush or you’ll miss the film _you_ picked.”

 

Concern Shown In Different Ways

The battle wasn’t particularly bad, but the weather made it near impossible to see each other. Biblical levels of rain poured down, visibility limited and storms causing distortion on the comms frequency. The Avengers really wanted to talk with this megalomaniac’s supervisor if they honestly thought the world needed to be ruled by a giant, bad-natured, and now sodden billy-goat.  
“I got no visibility Cap, basically blind up here.”  
“Fall back Barton, nothing much you can do. Thor can you get a good shot?”  
“Aye but I fear for the civilians.”  
“What? Why?”  
“Water conducts electricity Cap, if Thor takes a shot it may conduct straight to the ground, chance of electrocution.”  
“Okay, Thor. How about a good swing?”  
“I can barely see my hand in front of my face Rogers, I don’t know how you expect the god to swing his hammer about and Tony stop laughing that is not a euphemism.”  
“Great, nothing we can do. Iron Man?”  
“Infra-red still gives me visibility, speaking of which, bring up your shield 47 degrees up, riiiiight NOW.”  
A sound of concrete striking metal as the horns of the goat tore through a building, dropping debris on Steve. There was a flash closely followed by a clap of thunder.  
“Cap, run six feet to your left.”  
Tony was slowly drifting higher and higher, trying to get a good vantage on the battle. A hoof stomped down on what would have been Steve’s location, Tony seeing Steve roll just to safety. Lightning struck a lightbulb of an idea in Tony’s mind, illuminating the streets of New York in hot white light. Tony flew higher and higher into the sky, ready for the next strike. ‘This is going to hurt,’ thought Tony. And it did. Although Tony had been through it before (after a not-so-great start with a certain Norse God) so he was prepared. The HUD was flashing warnings. He vaguely registered screams of his name and a shortness of breath but then a British voice alerted him that his plan worked.  
“Power at 314% sir.”  
“Perfect.”  
He cut the power plummeting back down, only turning the power back on to hover straight on the goats head. He grabbed a horn, forcing it away from Steve on the ground. Then with both hands aimed straight down, Tony shot straight through the skull, the force of the output sending him reeling back into the air. He could see the goat careening down the street, before finally slumping sideways, knocking a billboard off of an apartment block. Right above Steve. Shit. Tony took a dive while ordering Jarvis to put everything into the thrusters, tackling Steve and flipping them round, unyielding metal scraping against unyielding concrete with a shrill piercing sound as a billboard came crashing down. Deathly silence echoed after the sounds of a crumbling billboard faded away. Steve uncurled himself from his position clasped against Iron Man’s chest. He pushed metal hands back as Tony’s helmeted head fell against the concrete with a metallic thud. Gauntlets were released and shaken off tremoring hands. Steve released the clasps of the face plate and helmet, tugging them away. Jarvis released the others, suit folding away. Tony pushed himself up, propped up on his elbows looking at Steve, panting from exertion. The blonde’s hands flitted about Tony’s body. Noting a few (minor, Tony insisted later) burns and several (minor, seriously Steve they are just minor) bruises.  
“Fuck, oh my god, Tony are you okay? Of course you aren’t you got struck by lightning and then- Tony? WE NEED MEDICS OVER HERE.”  
Medics came and went, agreeing with Tony’s insistence that he was, indeed, fine. The rain was still coming down in torrents. Tony was soaked through in seconds, and Steve’s hair was plastered to him, cowl removed and hanging down his back.  
“Tony, please talk to me, are you okay?”  
Tony, finally having caught his breath, glared at Steve.  
“What the FUCK do you think you were doing? You bench everyone but you for visibility but you wouldn’t have been able to see your own shield if it smacked you in the face. What the fuck Steve?”  
Tony had sat bolt upright, ordering Jarvis to do a full scan. When the results came back that Steve was unharmed Tony sighed in relief. Steve looked a little smug, definitely with a hint of ‘I-told-you-so’.  
“Not the point Steve,” Tony berated, having a go at the look Steve cast him, “you might not have been hurt _this_ time but you _could_ have been. You could have been killed. And I…”  
“I didn’t want to leave you alone out there, especially after you let yourself get struck by lightning you reckless ragamuffin.”  
“My suit could handle- wait what did you just call me?”  
“Nothing,” Steve said quickly.  
“Yes you did, you just called me a-“ Tony was quickly shut up by a pair of lips on his.

 

A Slip of The Tongue and a Date Night Later (or a little thought to make you feel at home)

Steve really should have seen this coming, after all he technically did start it. He hadn’t meant to call Tony a ragamuffin. But he had meant to continue.  
“Hello my little ragamuffin,” Steve grinned at Tony, leaning over the back of the sofa to better see what Tony was doing.  
“Hey dollface, got plans tonight?”  
Steve glanced at the electronic calendar that Jarvis flashed up on screen. Blank tonight. Thank god. Finally time for a date night.  
“It would appear not.”  
“So Sugar cube, what would you say about going to the Tate?”  
“I would say we aren’t going all the way to London for date night but I appreciate the thought, sweetie.”  
“Good thing I have a backup. Come with me honey-puff.”  
Tony took Steve’s hand and led him into the elevator and covered Steve’s eyes for the ride. He kept them covered with one hand, gently guiding Steve with the other. When he removed his hand, Steve stood gaping at the sight before him. They were on the roof, still spring air hanging warm around them. Candles were flickering gently, dotted across the roof. A portable wood burner was keeping the chill out of the air. A projector sat on a wall, aiming at another like an open air cinema. My Fair Lady already cued after Steve expressed a desire to see it a week ago but Jarvis didn’t have it on the database. On the ground lay a large red checked picnic blanket, traditional wicker picnic basket sat on top. Steve flicked it open and laughed at the contents.  
“Take-out containers.”  
“I don’t think even super serum can handle my cooking, Captain Crunch. What do you think?”  
Steve stared in wonder across the roof top, warm light of the candles mirroring the soft glow of love in his heart. He had been silent for almost a minute before he realised Tony was actually waiting on an answer and had been getting steadily more anxious as more time passed.  
“It’s stunning,” Steve breathed.  
And despite the weird, bizarre, and sometimes just confusing nicknames Steve and Tony gave each other, they always fell back on their favourites.  
“Glad you like it Winghead.”  
“It’s perfect Shellhead.”

 

The Cracks In My Armour That Only You Can See

Steve knew days like this happened. Days when Tony wore his masks so high and so long he forgot he put them on. Days when he ached to be himself again but had forgotten how to remove the mask. There were a few signs, early on in their relationship that made Steve realise how exhausted his lover was. But when he tried to speak to Nat about the pinches around the eyes, or Clint about the tightness of his smile, or Bruce about the nervous tick Tony got in his right foot, they all just looked at him like he was imagining it, saying they never noticed anything. Steve was inclined to agree with them, two super spies and one very observant doctor not seeing something so obvious. But then he realised. Tony hid it from them, or as best he could. Tony wandered into the shared lounge one evening, after a week of gruelling negotiations and even crueller meetings finalising the changes to the deal. The others were watching some TV show or other, that Steve had instantly lost focus on once Tony had entered the room. He walked in with rigid posture, back painfully straight and face still in a neutral smile, designed and honed to be as unintimidating and encouraging as possible while still having just a hint of ‘I am still a ruthless businessman so don’t try and fuck me over’. Looking like, for all the world, he just wanted to sleep, he sat down stubbornly and began negotiating the TV show. And no one noticed, which Steve found hilarious. Soon they were curled up together on the couch, watching Steve’s favourite show, even if he still wasn’t paying attention because Tony always took all of it. Steve kissed the corner of his eyes, creases turning to crinkles as Tony smiled.  
“What was that for?”  
Again, another issue when Tony became stuck like this. Everything was done for a reason.  
“No reason, just felt like it.”  
The smile finally lost its plastic look and the foot stopped twitching every few minutes. But Steve just somehow knew that wasn’t the end of it. This mask could never admit weakness no matter how small.  
“God I’m tired. Exhausted actually,” Tony said so quietly that only Steve could hear, “could we…”  
Okay _that_ reaction was new. And Steve took it for what it was. A sign of trust. Admitting a weakness, though really one everyone suffers at some point, but Tony – even when at the point of collapsing – would always say he’s not tired. Tony stood, offering a hand to Steve to pull him up. Steve took it and wrapped an arm around the shorter man’s shoulder, as Tony wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist. They walked together down the hall, Tony leaning heavily on Steve. Once they were together in Tony’s (their) room, door closed, the real cracks started showing.  
“So exhausted, just a horrible day. The Roth Account fell through and everyone is pulling overtime to deal with the Fletcher merger.”  
Tony just thumped his head against Steve’s chest, and closed his eyes, ever thankful for the peace that seeped into him whenever he was with Steve. Steve ran his hands up and down Tony’s back, gently easing the ache that builds when you hold yourself too tall for too long. Tony’s shoulders slumped.  
“I just couldn’t wait to come home and crawl into bed with y-“ Tony seemed to pull himself short. Then changed his mind. “Yeah, just crawl into bed with you.”  
They kicked off shoes and stripped off clothes, Tony down to his boxers and Steve changing into pyjamas. Together they lay down, Tony tucked under Steve’s arm with an arm thrown across his chest. They had been lying there for about ten minutes before Tony huffed out a sigh.  
“I can’t sleep.”  
“It’s okay Tony, we have time,” Steve said, running his hand through Tony’s curls.  
“Yeah… we have time…”  
Tony closed his eyes and drew Steve’s hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to the palm. Asleep seconds after.

 

Words Meant Just For You (Even If I can’t Say It In The Right Language)

It wasn’t a special night. Except it was. Tony managed to get out a meeting quickly and Steve finished his gym session quicker so they had some extra time together. The tower was unusually empty, Thor somewhere around the world with Jane, Bruce at a science conference in Ohio, Natasha and Clint on a mission under the guidance from Coulson. The two superheroes had the tower to themselves. And they did what they often did. Cosied together on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between them, ‘Hugo’ was playing on screen. The film eventually flickered to a finish, credits rolling and casting the room into almost darkness. Steve looked down at Tony, screen reflected in his bright eyes, blue glow emanating from his chest. He looked so stunning.  
“Tony, I really really love you.”  
Tony smiled up at him, eyes wide with that constant surprise at the sentiment but his smile no longer held the doubt it had when Steve first said those words.  
“Ti adoro. Ti amo più di ogni altra cosa.”  
Steve laughed,  
“I understood like one percent of that.”  
Tony frowned and began waving his hands in a manner suggesting fast-growing agitation.  
“Je t'adore. Je t'aime plus que tout autre chose.”  
He made a growling noise in his throat, frustration building. Steve just smiled fondly at him.  
“Okay, I understood slightly more of that. French?”  
“Sì.”  
“Italian?”  
“Sì. Ma no, tu non capisci. Ti amo più di quanto io possa esprimere e io non posso dirlo. Non avete idea di quanto sia frustrante questo è. Vorrei solo che tu sapessi. Vorrei solo poter dire.”  
“Tony, Tony. It’s okay.”  
“No it’s not, it’s not okay! Because you can’t understand,” Tony all but screamed in his frustration.  
“Then explain it to me, because I’m starting to get kind of worried here.”  
Tony took one look at Steve’s face, the concern, the patience, but mostly the love shining through. Deep breath.  
“Okay so I was in holiday in Italy when I was four, I think. And I had pinched some cookies from the jar but one of the maids caught me. I tried to lie about it, I think I blamed the dog that was with us in the Villa. The maid told me not to say such lies with such a beautiful language. And since then. Well. I don’t know. I save the lies for English I guess.”  
“Can you tell me what you said?”  
Tony smiled mischievously, though his cheeks tinted pink.  
“Nope, but… you know I do right? That I…” he swallowed around the words, then with a deep breath he tried again. “I love you Steve.”


	23. Revenge is a Dish Served Frozen and Six Months Out of Date

# Chapter 23 - Revenge is a Dish Served Frozen and Six Months Out of Date

Steve was befuddled. Amused but confused. The reason for his befuddlement was because most of his furniture had googly eyes stuck to them. They were on the headboard of the bed he and Tony now permanently shared. The base of the lamp on his side. Over Tony’s eyes in the photo left on the end table. On Steve’s phone. And Steve was certain that his boyfriend had something to do with it. He just didn’t have any _proof_. After all, the googly eyes had occurred in the three and a bit hours that Steve and Tony were out of the tower and on a date. But this was still so very Tony. And he’d tried to find the proof, oh how he tried. He checked the CCTV footage of their room, the corridor, literally the entire apartment. No one had even neared his room for the entirety of the three hours. Clint spent it at the archery range, Natasha was sleeping after a stint of undercover missions, Thor was with Jane, and Bruce was in his lab. Tony had just laughed when Steve had shown him his phone and the photo frame. Laughed and asked him why he stuck googly eyes to things.  
“I didn’t Tony.”  
“Suuure,” Tony sounded _entirely_ convinced, “they just popped up randomly did they?”  
“Yes.”  
“I’m pretty sure they didn’t.”  
But his smile wasn’t out of humour, not entirely. There was a touch of mischief to it.  
“If you really want me to, I’ll check out the CCTV footage, see if you are imagining things.”  
Steve narrowed his eyes at him, taking in the darting eyes that were full of mirth.  
“No, it’s fine. I’ll do it. I’m sure you want to work on your suit.”  
Tony grinned, more innocently now.  
“Thanks Love, I’ll be back in time for breakfast.”  
“And here I’d hoped you’d join me in bed for date night.”  
Tony winked before heading down to the workshop.

 

“Good work guys,” Tony grinned at the spy, archer, and doctor sitting in his workshop.  
Natasha was leaning back on a desk chair, feet propped up on Tony’s desk. Clint was sat cross legged on the desk, next to Natasha’s feet. Bruce was over by the charging stations, politely accepting the kale smoothie with streaks of something black from Dummy.  
“Don’t drink that,” Tony called across the workshop.  
The bot drooped his head at Tony’s words, Bruce stroked a support strut soothingly, enticing a purr from the bot.  
“You hurt his feelings.”  
“If you actually drank this,” Tony replied, holding up the blender cup he snatched from Dummy’s claw, “you’d rather hurt feelings than the hospital visit. Trust me. Dummy,” he said softly, crouching in front of the bot, “we’ve been over this. Remember, humans can’t drink motor oil. That’s a special drink for you bots. You got it?”  
The bot nodded frantically at his words before zooming off to the tiny kitchen area of the workshop. Tony watched him affectionately for a minute as he began tipping what looked like broccoli and strawberries into the now clean blender cup. He stood, catching the amused grins of the team.  
“What?” Tony demanded.  
“Nothing, you just treat him like he’s your child.”  
Tony rolled his eyes but said nothing on the matter, “Can we just get back to work?”  
“Aye-aye sir,” Clint saluted, “what’s the plan?”  
“Balloons. Lots and lots of balloons. Fill up the bedroom. Bruce, can you loop the CCTV feed again.”  
“Of course, tell me the time and date.”  
“I need it for after that mission he’s on in three days. Estimated time two hours, so it all needs to be complete by then. Which brings me to Clint.”  
“Yello,” Clint looked up from where he was caressing plans for new arrow designs.  
“Those putty arrows will be your reward, I need you to fill the balloons and be in and out within the allotted time.”  
“No problem, air vents it is.”  
“Now, he’s going to get suspicious if I am conveniently with him whenever these pranks occur but I still need to be out of the picture. Natasha, I need an alibi.”  
“I’m on it.”  
“Alright then, let’s roll.”

 

Several days later, Steve returned home with Natasha.  
“I’m going to head straight up, shoo Clint out of my fridge. If he’s stolen my chocolate again…” Natasha’s voice trailed off into multi-lingual curses that Steve either didn’t understand or didn’t want to understand.  
Making a mental note to never touch Natasha’s food, he glanced at the ceiling before addressing Jarvis.  
“Hey Jarvis.”  
“Welcome home Captain Rogers.”  
“Thanks, where can I find him?”  
“Sir is currently in his business office.”  
“Thanks Jarvis,” Steve said gratefully.  
Taking the elevator up, he went into Tony’s rarely used office. He could hear raised voices, high with tension and stress. Tony was arguing down the phone again by the sound of the one sided conversation. Gently he pushed open the door and waited for Tony to finish on the phone. He was moaning.  
“I don’t care, I am not doing any business with them… what do you mean why? They produce expensive, low quality everything. I wouldn’t touch that company with a ten foot Mjolnir… No I am not being unreasonable. Our CEO agrees with me actually… What, you want me to get her on the phone? It’s eleven at night, she would have gone home, call her cell… I am head of R&D and I don’t want to research into nor develop their products. It would cost us too much money to even pull it up to industry standards, let alone Stark standards.”  
Tony glanced up from the papers on his desk, grinning when he saw Steve. He walked over, still arguing down the phone.  
“No, you will not blame this on me… This isn’t my fault. I mean that company makes HammerTech look successful, of course we aren’t-“ Tony stopped midstream to kiss Steve quickly, before holding up a finger to indicate he’d be another minute or two, “-working with them… _fine_ , speak to Miss Potts. She agrees with me, so go speak to her and quit wasting my time. I should charge you for this phone call y’know… Our stocks are fine, but if we do any business with them they won’t be. I don’t know why you are desperate to push this… Just to warn you, if you answer with ‘they make my favourite anything’ I will make it my personal mission to fire you and get you a job with them so that you can see how much they suck… No I don’t have a personal vendetta because they insulted the StarkPhone on TV. They insulted it on FOX, anyone who takes FOX seriously shouldn’t have access to my tech… Alright, are we done here? …No I’m not trying to rush you, I just have prime American beef steak waiting for me… Yes I do mean him,” Tony laughed, “look, you have a husband you want to go home to right? You don’t? Well you can tell him that I kept you late, but if you keep me any later you are getting a two week paid holiday to spend with him… Thank you. Call Miss Potts, buh-bye.”  
Tony rolled his eyes as he turned off the phone and threw it on the sofa. Steve grabbed his hand and kissed him, before grinning against Tony’s lips.  
“Please tell me that the employees of this company don’t know me as your bit of ‘prime American beef steak’.”  
Tony smiled back sheepishly, “Not all of them.”  
Steve shrugged, and kissed Tony’s cheek.  
“I’ll take it as a compliment.”  
“I did say ‘prime’.”  
“Shall we go to bed?”  
Tony nodded, dragging Steve into an empty elevator. Once the doors slid shut Tony’s hands got busy. One slid into Steve pants, teasing. The other was caressing his chest. Steve’s hands were on Tony’s ass tugging him closer. His hands worked up, under Tony’s suit jacket and tugging Tony’s shirt from his pants. Tony’s hand clasped around Steve’s cock, stroking until he made the taller man gasp and moan against him. Tony deftly stripped Steve of his shirt one handed, Steve ripping Tony’s off his chest when he refused to stop and cooperate for even a moment. With a roll of his eyes and a mutter of ‘savage’ Tony kissed deeper, walking Steve backwards into the elevator wall. Steve’s hands were roaming Tony, bright blue eyes staring at him with an intensity that made Tony flush a delicate pink. His hands were everywhere on Tony, making the brunet shiver in anticipation. The elevator dinged open. Steve pushed him backwards, steering them towards Steve’s bedroom. Although they slept mostly in Tony’s room (bigger bed, and Tony wriggled in his sleep. A lot. Out of the bed on several occasions) they still used Steve’s when Tony’s was just too far away. Pants were discarded in the hallway as both men stripped off the remaining clothing eagerly. And then Steve opened the door. A wall of balloons in every colour of the rainbow stood between them and the bed.  
“Steeeeeeeve,” Tony groaned, “why did you fill your room with balloons?”  
Steve just stared at Tony in utter disbelief.  
“You cannot seriously believe I would fill my own room with balloons?”  
“Who else would fill your room with multi-coloured balloons?”  
“You.”  
Tony glared, frustration in his voice as his hands still roamed across Steve’s chest.  
“Why would I, when this was going to happen?”  
“Let’s just use our other room.”  
Steve dragged a whining Tony down the corridor, leaving the clothes puddled outside of his doorway. This time when they opened the door a tidal wave of primary coloured balloons tumbled out, some rising to the ceiling.  
“Well that’s just a mood killer,” Steve gritted out, Tony still teasing torturous patterns lower and lower, tracing across his thighs.  
Tony glared at the balloons, before just diving into the pile.  
“I’m going to bed,” Tony sulked.  
“Get out of there, you could suffocate.”  
“Then pop the damn balloons,” he bit out, voice muffled by the floating orbs of brightly coloured annoyance.  
Steve cleared the balloons, piercing them where they were tied. By the time he finally deflated all the balloons he heard muffled snores from the bed. Annoyance was fast replaced by affection as Tony wriggled, one leg dangling off the bed. Taking in exhaustion-bruised skin and eyes that would no doubt be bloodshot beneath the closed eyelids, Steve left his lover to sleep, unspoken promise of a rain check on tonight. He settled himself down on the bed, gently tugging a heavily asleep Tony back onto the bed and onto his chest. Murmured nonsense and a soft press of lips to his clavicle was a pleasant balm to soothe the sting this evening had left.

 

“Okay, last night might have backfired a little.”  
It was 4am and he was standing in his workshop with his fellow mischief-makers.  
“A little? Tony, I can feel the sexual frustration radiating off you.”  
Tony glared at the assassin, but didn’t speak. He had woken up from a nightmare after two hours sleep and was in a decidedly bad mood, the others sensing that now was not a good time to tease. Bruce simply pressed a milky coffee into Tony’s hands, no moaning at the lack of bitter taste, just a deep sigh of content as he drained the mug in one. One hand scrubbed across his face, like he might be able to drag the exhaustion from his eyes. His other hand waved at Bruce in a non-verbal gesture of thanks. A few weeks ago they had to add to the TSSS. Non-verbal had been discovered. It only happened during times of stress when nightmares were most common. He’d force himself awake to avoid the terrors his subconscious would create for him, but so lacking in energy, the usually loquacious and verbose man turned silent, losing interest in most things he enjoyed. The workshop was as silent as he was despite spending most of his time there. It was the stage that worried them all most. Because a silent Tony usually turned to an ill Tony because he just didn’t talk. Didn’t tell anyone that anything was wrong.  
“Maybe we should stop the pranks for a little while. Just until you rest,” Natasha said kindly.  
Tony shook his head, and attempted to drink more coffee from the empty cup. Banner just eased it from his hands, swapping it with what was left of his own.  
“Tony, we are refusing to help until you get some rest,” Banner stated, earning an annoyed glare.  
Tony threw his hands up in the air in frustration, accidentally throwing the coffee cup with them. Clint caught it before it could smash on the workshop floor. Tony then left in a whirlwind of movement, snarling something that sounded suspiciously like “fine, I’ll do it myself”. The dark cloud of exhaustion and anger approached the entertainments room, casting an obscene gesture at the good-natured Norse God sprawled on the sofa, who stood, looking taken aback. He slid across the sofa, allowing Tony room to lie down. Flicking off whatever Thor was watching without asking, he turned on a Disney film, Atlantis.   
“Tony, are you well?”   
A shrug was all the response he got, tired eyes not moving from the screen.   
“May I offer you council?”   
Another shrug. No witty response or dumb nickname. At that the God became concerned.   
“What causes you so much toil?”   
A weak hand gesture to a suit jacket that had been slung over an armchair.   
“So it is your company?”   
A nod.   
“Would you prefer the company of your captain?”   
A nod and then a shake of his head.   
“But the good Captain should worry to see you like this.”   
Tony closed his eyes slowly, then yawned, before looking pointedly at Thor and then the door to the corridor.   
“The Captain is asleep?” Thor suggested tentatively, not wishing to be wrong during this game of charades.   
Tony nodded, yawning once more.   
“So your company is having issues?”   
A nod then a shrug. Then finally a voice.   
“Marketing wants us to work with this company. But accounting says it would cost us more than we’d gain. Pepper and I agree but marketing is being… forceful.”   
“Why did you not seek out your captain if you could not find any respite?”   
Tony indicated to the combat boots lying abandoned in the hallway from the night before.   
“Ah, because he was tired from his mission?”   
Tony nodded.   
“I hope I have been able to offer some manner of comfort for you, Tony.”   
And Thor felt relieved to receive a sleepy half smile and a grateful pat on his arm. Thor lifted himself from the couch, Tony curling into a ball as he did. Dragging the blanket off the back of the couch, Thor draped it over Tony, turning at the muted sighs from the doorway.   
“Well that could have gone a lot worse, nice work Thor.”   
“Thank you Clint. I was not anticipating Tony to show up. I had just finished my Skyping with the lady Jane when he showed…”   
“He’s been having nightmares again lately. Not sleeping again.”   
In the flickering light of the screen, the group turned to see brown eyes slide closed. They all crept away silently, leaving the figure curled on the couch to sleep.

 

Only to have coffee coloured eyes snap open fifteen minutes later with a glassy stare. With flowing movement and graceful action, Tony carted a good hundred or so plastic cups full of water, one by one, and deposited them all side by side outside of the door of his and Steve’s bedroom. With a small smile to himself, he glided back to his bed-slash-sofa.

 

Steve woke in a panic. Panic caused by the lack of a familiar figure that was usually curled against his side when he woke. And he couldn’t see him half hanging off the bed or in the bathroom. Couldn’t hear the humming of some rock tune he had yet to be introduced to.   
“Good morning Captain, the time is 6:13am and the weather is due to be clear skies. Sir is currently asleep in the entertainments room.”   
Heartbeat slowing to a more regular pace, Steve glanced up at the ceiling.   
“Thanks Jarvis, what’s he doing in there?”   
“After a brief exchange with Mr Odinson, he fell asleep there.”   
“Nightmares again?”   
“So it would appear Captain.”   
“Why didn’t he come to me?” Steve asked mostly of himself.   
“According to the conversation with Mr Odinson, it seems he did not wish to wake you after your mission. He believed you would be tired and would not appreciate the interruption of your REM cycle.”   
“For someone with such a high IQ, he can really be an idiot,” Steve muttered, “Alright, how long has he been asleep?”   
“Fifteen minutes, followed by a brief period of wakefulness consistent with his actions prior and during his conversation with Thor, and then falling fully into REM sleep, this cycle currently lasting under 1 hour.”   
Steve opened his door, striding straight through to head towards the entertainments room. Only to stop as cold seeped over his toes, sending a shiver up his spine. How he hated the cold. He heard the rattle as plastic cups tipped over onto hardwood floors.   
“SHIT.”

 

Tony woke with a start, loud swearing ripping him from the total darkness of sleep. Glaring groggily at the direction his brain told him he heard the noise (about 90 degrees off) he stood to his feet, wrapping the blanket around him like a cape. He walked down the corridor until he heard a splash. And his incredibly tired mind supplied him with the only explanation it thought possible. He was back in the cave and they were about to send him under again. And it wasn’t water around his toes, it was sand burning the soles of his feet. White painted walls became rocky walls. Steve became… no he was Steve. Steve stayed Steve. Steve was in the cave, they were going to torture Steve. Oh god, he wanted to be sick. He felt shaking fingers blocked all but Steve from his vision.   
“You with me honey, Tony. You aren’t there, you’re here with me, right? C’mon Shellhead you aren’t ther- good, hey Tony.”   
Tony blinked slowly, sand and stone disappearing in a sweep of lashes.   
“You’re not there and I’m right here.”   
“That’s right.”   
Tony reached down and snagged one of the still standing cups, draining the water from it to ease his suddenly parched throat.   
“I’m too tired for this shit, I have work in like two hours.”   
Steve just grabbed him at the crook of his elbow, spinning him to face the direction of their bedroom. But Tony shook him off.   
“Steve, I have to go to work,” he argued stubbornly.   
“But Tony-“   
“No, I can’t abandon Pepper on this.”   
And with that he stormed out, demanding Jarvis get clean clothes sent to his office.

 

He woke from his nightmare with a strangled yell. That, that had been the worst one yet. Steve had… and it was his fault. Such a simple mistake that he should have caught, should have seen. But he didn’t. At a price far greater than he could afford. He could still feel the warmth of blood on his quivering hands.   
“J, bring me up the video feed of wherever Steve is.”   
His computer monitor flickered to life, showing the corridor outside his office. Steve was standing outside his door, hand raised as if ready to knock. Tony leapt to his feet. Or tried to, his legs felt like they were made of jelly. His hand reached out to find purchase of his desk, only succeeding in knocking everything to the floor with a loud clatter. Steve hurried through the door at the noise, helping Tony to his feet.   
“ ‘m sorry Steve.”   
“For what, sweetie?”   
“For being a dick.”   
“Don’t apologise for that. If you start you’ll never be able to stop.”   
Tony did his best at an annoyed glare, coming across more tired and glad Steve wasn’t mad at him. Or dead.   
“Gee thanks.”   
“You’re welcome, I find it endearing.”   
“Yeah well, you would.”   
Tony stalked over to the sofa in his office. It was all hard angles and stiff cushions, made to look professional but not overly comfortable. And Tony dropped onto it hard, head clasped in his hands. Steve followed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and dragging him in for a hug. He felt a muffled sigh of relief against his neck, Tony’s jaw bonking his shoulder as he yawned widely.   
“What’s wrong?”   
“Marketing are trying to pressure us into a deal with a company that we shouldn’t deal with. Cross Industries. They think it will increase both our and their reputation, but accounting says we won’t get the dividends Marketing are proposing and I agree. But marketing isn’t backing off this one.”   
“Can I try?”   
Tony looked at him for the split second it took for him to capitulate, too tired to even argue.   
“Sure,” he gestured towards the phone on his desk.   
Steve found the number for marketing and rang.   
“Hello, this is Steve Rogers calling on behalf of Mr Stark in regards to the Cross Industries deal… Yes I understand it would help increase Cross’s reputation. However overall, working with a company that already garners that sort of reputation, including infringements on workers’ rights, isn’t the sort of company Stark Industries is interested in working with. As well as this, accounts have confirmed Mr Stark’s belief that expected dividends will be seriously below what your department has anticipated… No I am not faulting your department, according to the information I have in front of me, you were working with incorrect data sent over from Cross Industries,” Steve said, flicking through the pages on Tony’s desk, “and if we do not see the desired dividends then we cannot work with them. In this case the risk is too great. The board members would have a field day if we went through with this deal… Yes I understand… Thank you… Yes, I’ll be sure to let him know. Thank you… Have a good day,” Steve hung up the phone and tossed it at the desk, “there, all sorted.”   
“How did you do that?”   
“Used to sell bonds, I have a certain talent for persuasion.”   
“And how often have you used this talent on me?” Tony asked curiously.   
“Not often. Only when I have to. Now how about we go to bed, and I’ll make you breakfast in the morning.”   
Tony yawned, then shook his head.   
“Can’t, still have work to do. Need to tell Pepper that the marketing issue is resolved and R&D is behind so I need to chase them up on their reports. Either that or do them all myself which would actually be quicker and-“   
“Sir, I have taken the liberty of texting Miss Potts regarding the solution to the marketing issue. Now might I suggest you accept the Captain’s offer of bed and breakfast.”   
“You even got my traitorous AI to help you,” Tony glared at Steve, “but I can’t. Work. Reports.”   
“Miss Potts has returned your message telling you ‘thank Steve for me, and for god’s sake Tony. GO. TO. BED.’”   
“And you got my treacherous CEO on your side, how are you doing this?”   
“Powers of persuasion. Now please, come to bed.”   
And Steve was looking at him with Puppy dog eyes, all wide and blue and so very cute. How could Tony resist? The answer is he couldn’t, but he didn’t give in happily.   
“Fine, you goddamn Labrador, I’ll go to sleep. But I want pancakes.”   
“Your wish is my command.”

 

Tony woke in fear, lingering senses of loss clinging close to him and clawing at his lungs like acrid smoke. The hand on his startled the life out of him, head whipping round to find understanding blue eyes looking worriedly into his own. “This is why you couldn’t sleep huh?” Tony nodded as he hid his face against Steve’s chest, cursing the tremors that ran through him. It was just a dream, it wasn’t real. Steve was still here and warm beneath him, still talking and breathing and here. But the image, the fear, wouldn’t leave his mind. Lifeless blue staring at him, as bright red flowed freely from gaping wounds. His fault, his fault, his fault. Issue with the armour or the shield or something Tony should have just foreseen. Just a dream.   
“Want to talk about it?” Tony didn’t say anything for several minutes, letting his heartbeat calm and fall in time with Steve’s steady thu-thump. Steve didn’t force it, just stayed still except for the hand carding through brown tangles of hair.   
“It was my fault. I should have seen the flaw, seen the attack coming but I missed it and you… you-“   
And then in the rarest moment Steve had seen, Tony burst into sobs, tears streaming down his face. Stress and fear and worry came pouring out, and Tony just pressed his face into Steve’s neck, hiding his weakness. And Steve just let him, allowed him his privacy in this moment of weakness.   
“How often have you been having this one?”   
Silence as Tony tried to gain control of his voice.   
“The past few nights,” Tony choked out.   
Steve sighed, heavy and sad, “You should have come to me.”   
Tony shook his head, still not meeting Steve’s eyes, fearing them being as lifeless as his dream.   
“Please look at me.”   
Powers of persuasion indeed. Tony lifted his eyes, watery and bloodshot brown meeting oceans of blue. Full of life and so very empathetic.   
“I’ve been there Tony, I’ve dreamt of you drowning and falling and… it terrifies me.”   
“You never came to me about it,” Tony mumbled bitterly, “hypocrite.”   
“I guess I am. But I will in future. If you’ll do the same.”   
Tony nodded, curling back under Steve’s arm. Fingers still shaking, they locked on tight to Steve’s shirt, fumbling with the fabric.   
“You’ll be here when I wake up, right?”   
“Of course,” Steve grinned.   
“Can you show me how to make pancakes tomorrow?”   
“I’d love to.”   
Steve kissed Tony’s forehead and curled around him, leg thrown over Tony’s. Tony gripped Steve’s wrist and brought his hand up to the arc reactor. Placing it gently, Tony snuffled sleepily, Steve wiping away the last few tears from his eyes.   
“ ‘m sorry Steve, you don’ deserve my bullshit. Thank you for being here and staying.”   
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else. I love you.”   
Tony kissed Steve’s neck in lieu of an answer, already far too gone in sleep to form coherent thought.

 

Except he woke up again. And again. And again. Each time the dream, the nightmare taking a fear and turning it against Steve. He was being tortured in the cave and Tony couldn’t help. He was pinned down by Obadiah (realistically unlikely but hey, Tony’s subconscious is a bitch), pulling the blood from his veins, getting one last chance at the serum. He was crashing a plane into ice, too thick, too cold, for Tony to do anything but watch as the man he loved sunk lower and lower into black waters. He was surrounded by stars and darkness, clawing at his throat as the earth’s atmosphere left them. Lips tinged blue, hands shook, eyes wide and fearful and disappointed when he realised Tony had failed. Failed him. That was the worst, Steve having to wake him up. He’d stopped breathing in his sleep, mirroring the Steve in his dream. A terrified Steve was shaking next to him, tears of his own in his eyes as they shared fear of losing the one they love. And each time Steve never got mad that he lost sleep, never lost his patience waiting for Tony to explain, never left to sleep somewhere else. Just a steady constant. So when it came to another prank. Well Tony just lost heart.   
“Oh c’mon, I have a really good one.”   
Tony gestured Clint to continue with a wave of his hand, never looking up from the putty arrows he was creating. Next to him lay designs for net arrows and tracer arrows. Still had to complete those.   
“Okay so Steve still isn’t that tech savvy so we stick signs everywhere saying things like ‘Voice Activated’ or ‘Dance Activated’. Things like that. Then we film Steve trying to get them to work. Except after a bit me, Nat, or Bruce, or Thor will do it normally. He’ll eventually distrust the signs, and ignore them. So we have one door, say to the gym, that is actually voice activated. Record it, YouTube it, hope it gets more hits than him making you scream. So yeah,” Clint finished lamely, still clearly excited by his idea.   
Tony pondered for a bit. Well actually he just finished the quiver of arrows and handed it off to Clint. He was still trying to clean the putty from the unfortunate testing corner of his workshop, so they should hold aliens and stuff for at least long enough.   
“Fine,” Tony said reluctantly to raised eyebrows, “but I say whether it gets posted or not.”   
“Agreed, Steve is on his run right now, let’s do it.”   
And they all filed out, Clint bouncing about.

 

Steve was rather concerned. Tony’s nightmares only seemed to be getting worse. And it wasn’t like he could help. It was stress but it seemed even Tony didn’t know what he was stressed about. Just overworked, overtired, and overwrought. And Steve would force Tony to have a day off if he had to. Returning from his run, Steve tried to locate his partner. Giving up, he asked Jarvis.   
“Sir is in his office, being thoroughly lectured on the importance of sleep by Miss Potts. He’ll return within the hour according to previous estimates.”   
“Thanks Jarvis.”   
He then went to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. Except he spotted a piece of paper taped to it. ‘Activated by voice’ it read. Wondering what on earth Tony could be testing now Steve tried to get the fridge to reveal its goods.   
“Open?” He tried questioningly, then “Open,” he demanded more authoritatively.   
After several minutes and all the synonyms of open he could think of, Steve gave up. He reached into the pantry, pinching a few of Thor’s poptarts. Only to find the toaster had been modified too. ‘Activated through interpretive dance’ this sign read. Steve just sighed and put the box back, having no idea what interpretive dance actually was. The oven had a sign saying ‘Clap to Activate’ and the coffee maker had a sign saying ‘Swear inventively to activate’. When he noticed that sign he got suspicious. Only to have suspicions confirmed by Natasha wandering into the room, panda eyes and a smile on her face as she grabbed enough food for two out the fridge, taking two bowls and the entire milk carton and box of cereal with her, along with mountains of fruit and a blueberry muffin that Tony had officially claimed (with a tiny flag that had the arc on it).   
“Заткнись, я чего вам пищу. Будьте благодарны вам однорукий лабрадор.”   
This was followed by loud though muffled groaning from the direction of her room. Steve’s eyebrows shot to his hairline but he knew better than to say anything. She saw the look anyway.   
“Part of a mission,” she said easily.   
Steve just remained silent. And then stared at the fridge.   
“How’d you get it to open?”   
“I pulled on the handle sweetie,” she said, smile erring on patronising.   
She walked out the kitchen, holding the cereal box to her chest with her chin. Thor paraded in afterwards, riffling through the various flavours of poptarts. Into the toaster and popping out again minutes later. And so Steve tried for coffee. Except it didn’t work. And then Tony strode in, mouthing off down the phone.   
“Fuck, wank, bugger, shitting asshead and hole. You unimaginable bastard, if you do not understand my interface I will send it to a fucking pre-school. The children there are smarter than you’re being right now, not that that is difficult, a fucking single-celled organism is more intelligent,” the coffee pot beeped, somehow sounding displeased by his language, hissing steam as it brewed, “and now my coffee maker is angry at me, which is now your fault for your stupidity,” another annoyed beep, “why did I think AI in something as holy as coffee was a good idea? Just do your bloody reports by tonight. I know you have like a hundred but you shouldn’t have left them so late then.”   
He hung up the phone, looking pissed.   
“Not going to have breakfast, oh captain my captain?”   
Steve eyed up Tony, spotting the half concealed smirk hidden behind a mug of black coffee.   
“No, going for silence then? I’ll be in the gym, Nat agreed to kick the shit out of me and call it training.”   
“I don’t want you sparring with Nat, not when you are so tired. Plus I think she’s… busy.”   
“Busy?”   
“Busy.”   
“Doing?”   
“No idea. Working.”

 

So Steve spent the morning trying to figure out which appliances were now activated by doing ridiculous things. And everything just screamed Tony pulling his leg. Especially when the TV turned on when he coughed but turned off at Clint’s request later. He went down to the gym, to chase Tony out. But the sign on the door was smudged, printer ink distorted from spilled coffee, completely unreadable. And so he tried everything. Yelling, swearing, dancing, singing, whistling. Even pleading. And it was at the pleading that the door was thrown open.   
“Smile, you’re on candid camera,” Tony laughed at him as the tablet in his hands flicked on showing Steve’s attempts with the technology, “that was for what you did to me on Ellen. J, cut, print, rename ‘Earth’s mightiest hero’s mightiest foe’ and now Captain, should I upload it to YouTube, Twitter, Tumblr, basically all over the internet? I think I would rather like to see these powers of persuasion,” and there was a clear leer in his voice.   
But that was all he got to say, Steve pushing him against the wall, leading to surprised amused snort from Tony. Hands splayed out on the wall beside his head, Steve’s body surrounding him and pinning him to the wall. His kiss was domineering and Tony could feel his knees go weak, and for Christ’s sake, he was an experienced man not some horny teenager. The tablet slipped from his grasp as Steve pulled away, only to move to Tony’s neck, sucking and biting hard, a little rougher than usual but oh god Tony was going starry-eyed. Someone was moaning, probably Steve, because Tony was sure he was the one panting and gasping and Jesus Christ, Steve had been a virgin only a few months ago, how had Tony defiled him so fast and so thoroughly but oh god he was glad he did. Steve’s mouth was moving lower, sharp nips followed by a caress of the tongue to soothe the sting as he covered his body in small bruises and when the hell had Steve even got his shirt off but it was off and he was stroking the edge of the arc reactor and fuck the skin was sensitive there. Tony jolted at the first touch, but Steve held him in place, kissing away the whimper of desire. The second had his legs tensing and the third left him as little more than a puddle held up by Steve’s strong arms. His head fell back thumping against the wall, eyes closing as Steve moved lower still, hands caressing his stomach and gliding between his thighs. Tony knew his mouth was moving wordlessly but his brain was unable to think anything but Steve.   
“How are my powers of persuasion?”   
But Tony didn’t answer, couldn’t. His body felt taut, tense with anticipation. Steve never quite gave him enough to push him over the edge but his brain was already foggy.   
“Answer me,” Steve demanded, and god that tone of voice went straight down, electrifying Tony’s nerves.   
“Yes Captain,” Tony managed to choke out, and even to his own ears it sounded husky and hoarse, full of want and need and lust.   
“My powers of persuasion?”   
But Steve’s voice never made it to Tony’s ears, because the minute he stopped talking he began worrying a small patch of skin behind Tony’s left ear. Which drove him wild, a desperate need to touch, to feel Steve. Only he couldn’t because the evil Captain had somehow pinned his arms above his head.   
“J, whatever Steve wants give it to him. Steve, Captain, Cap-Captain please, please, ple-“   
“Begging already?”   
Tony had no idea what he’d just said or asked or anything really. The words stopped but the attempts at them didn’t, mouthing fruitlessly. Only knew that Steve was looking down at him smugly and such self-satisfaction should not be so hot but it was Steve and-   
“You have no other copies of the video?”   
Video? Oh god, please let there be a video of this. Jarvis better be recording this. Some muffled voice from nearby and a nod from Tony seemed to satisfy Steve as he picked up his ecstasy-blind lover. But to do so he had finally let go of Tony’s hands, which had decided they had lost time to make up for. Dark marks left on Steve’s neck that would last a couple of hours at most, and hands roaming down his chest and across his back as legs wrapped around his waist proved a suitable distraction for the super soldier. Yet he still managed to carry them both up to their room. Tony lay sprawled across the bed, having been thrown there by a fast growing impatient Captain. Opening his legs wide and grinning lavishly he asked “Your orders Captain?”

 

Enjoying the after-glow, Steve was stroking his hand through Tony’s hair as the figure slept on his stomach. Tony had somehow manage to wriggle so much in his sleep that he’d turned a full 90 degrees on the bed, so his feet were hanging over the edge and his head resting on Steve’s stomach. His arm was crooked so his hand was resting against Steve’s chest, palm up, and the other was dangling off the bed. And he slept soundly, which was a relief. After several hours a thought occurred to Steve. Tony had been paying him back for Steve scaring him on Ellen. And since it was quite an embarrassing scream he unleashed, Steve was sure it wasn’t just pranks with appliances Tony had done. He had no doubt that everything else was Tony’s doing as well. He felt a muffled yawn and adamant refusal to wake up.   
“Hey Tony, you awake?” Steve whispered into his ear.   
A nod then a shake of his head only proved he was. Finally accepting that consciousness was his current state, Tony glanced up into those aquamarine eyes that he had become so intimately familiar with.   
“Mornin’, at what ungodly hour have I been woken?”   
“Ten-thirty.”   
Steve could only smile as Tony just turned his face away from all sources of light and into Steve, with a moan of annoyance.   
“Wake me when it’s not ten-thirty.”   
“Nah you’re up now. And I won.”   
“You won?”   
“The video got deleted.”   
“Hate to tell ya but I still have several on you, Cap.”   
“I knew those were you. How did you do it though? You were with me half the time and working the other half.”   
“Engineer never names his tools.”   
“Okay, so Clint helped.”   
“Yep, and Bruce and Nat.”   
“I’m going to tell them you called them tools.”   
“Yeah, you do that Cap,” Tony yawned, clearly unimpressed with the teasing.   
“So who did the balloons?”   
“Clint.”   
“And the googly eyes?”   
“Nat.”   
“Why did it never show up on CCTV?”   
“Bruce.”   
“Who did the water?”   
“Water?” Tony asked confused, still half asleep and trying to drag his sluggish brain into something that semi-functioned.   
“The cups of water outside our bedroom door.”   
Tony made some sort of noise like ‘I don’t know’ without actually creating the words.   
“Sir, if I may, I am afraid you placed the cups outside of yours and the Captain’s door.”   
“Jarvis, I think I would remember if-”   
“Jarvis, bring up the CCTV,” Steve interrupted.   
And there Tony was placing cups outside the door, one by one. Tony looked confused at the him on screen, then at Steve. And then in a lightbulb moment both of them realised.   
“Sleepwalking,” they exclaimed together.   
“Why did Jarvis not wake me up?”   
Tony frowned, then glared at the ceiling, “What happened J?”   
“I am afraid I do not know. All your vitals, pulse, brain activity were consistent with those previous to your sleep. For all I could deduce you were ‘awake’,” the AI said, sounding sincerely apologetic.   
“Oh, not your fault J. I’ll upgrade the sensors and work on the coding. Might need to get Banner to help run tests next time I sleepwalk.”   
Steve made to move, making Tony frown.   
“Fine, we are doing the whole morning thing. Fine then. I’m going to go shower.”   
He lifted himself off Steve, and walked into the bathroom, humming something that sounded like the theme from the Sherlock Films. Steve got up too and moved into the kitchen, planning on making breakfast. When he got a sudden idea. Just a tiny bit of revenge for the embarrassment the previous morning. Upon hearing Tony’s footsteps, Steve quickly placed the sugar pot back in its place and began searching for jam to lather on his toast. Predictably Tony went straight for the coffee pot, grabbing a tablespoon and dumping a spoonful of sugar into the coffee. Then another.   
“Isn’t that enough sugar?” Steve tried to suggest tentatively.   
“Enough is never enough.”   
Dumping in three more, Tony took a sip of his cup and paused, staring at Steve over the rim, who was doing his best to look like the pinnacle of innocence. Steve hoped he’d stop there. But no, he continued drinking, making sure to never break eye contact while he drank.   
“Tony stop, what are you doing?” Steve made to take the cup, but Tony drained it before handing it back.   
“Something wrong Captain?” Tony smirked, before the smile just dropped off his face, “Uh-oh.”   
Hand clasped to his mouth, Tony ran back to their bathroom. Steve followed, seeing Tony just drop to his knees in front of the toilet. Violent heaves as Tony puked up coffee and bile.   
“Why did you keep drinking? You knew I swapped the sugar and salt.”   
“Worth it,” Tony grinned during a moment of reprieve before ducking his head back down.   
“No more pranks?”   
After a violent heave, Tony looked up.   
“No more pranks,” he agreed.


	24. Don’t Play Bon Jovi While We Are Arguing

# Chapter 24 - Don’t Play Bon Jovi While We Are Arguing

“Okay, we might not be able to take all of these guys on,” Tony said reluctantly as the room filled with Hydra agents.   
“We’ve taken on an army from outer space, we can do this,” Steve asserted.   
“Not with a bleeding member of the team, and the others can’t get to us.”   
Steve glanced down over his shoulder, at where Clint was lying, scarily pale. He was bleeding from multiple wounds, the worst being the blow to the head, leaving him dizzy and barely able to stand, let alone draw an arrow. Tony suddenly grabbed Steve’s face and kissed him fiercely. As he pulled away Steve realised he couldn’t hear a thing. Tony bent down next to Barton, putting something in his ears. Tony was mouthing something slowly but frantically.   
“Pick up Barton and get out,” his lips formed.   
Steve picked up Barton carefully, trying not to jar any injuries. Tony was back to communicating with Jarvis.   
“I think I have to, J.”   
“The ‘This is the worst idea I’ve had’ protocol sir?”   
“That’s the one. Keep it going for as long as possible.”   
Tony blasted a hole through the crowd, a high pitched whirring sounding through the room. He could feel it in his bones, freezing through his veins. He had about three seconds of movement left, time to use it wisely. He grabbed Steve drawing his attention, and flipping the faceplate up.   
“Go now Steve, I’ll be right on your heels.”   
He could feel the blood dripping from his ears so he flipped the faceplate down. Steve ran through the downed Hydra agents, straight to the easily accessed door. He got Barton to the medical, the doctors immediately swarming around like mosquitos drawn to his blood. They wrapped up the wounds and patched him together. He then turned around to Tony. Tony?

 

Blood stilled in his veins, chest aching as his weak heart fought against the sound. His breathing slowed to nearly nothing. His vision was going dark. Silently he willed Jarvis to stop that horrible sound. Why did he ever invent that? God it hurt like hell. And then it was over. Steve was safe and it was over. Tony pushed his stiff limbs hard, knocking down any Hydra agent that tried to stand. He made it to the door, through and near safety. Just one more thing. He blasted the ceiling above the door, concrete falling and stopping it opening again. Hydra won’t be following them this time. He stumbled to the medical unit that was sat waiting, just thinking that if he made it to Steve everything would be fine and Obadiah wouldn’t somehow rise from the dead and steal the world’s most expensive nightlight. Obadiah was – IS – dead, Tony kept reminding himself. His brain and body felt sluggish, essentially oxygen deprived for a couple of minutes that he ran Obadiah’s paralysis frequency. Steve, got to find Steve. Make sure he got out with Barton okay. He saw a few SHIELD agents run up to him, but he dismissed them with a wave of his hand.   
“Hydra guys are in there, you’ll need to clear the rubble first. Or leave them trapped, whatever.”   
Tony picked up pace, despite the protest his body screamed. Steve. He could see the blond head over the crowd. Running as fast as his legs would let him, barrelling into Steve and kissing him hard. It might not have been the most romantic kiss they’d shared, nor the most passionate, or sweetest, but it was full of more relief than either of the two cared to admit. And they were happy to just be with each other, giving Tony a moment to recover and Steve a chance to feel reassured that Tony was well and in his arms and despite his constant self-sacrificing ploys, he was still alive. They were fine.

 

Until they all got back to the Tower.   
“What did you DO?”   
“It was simple paralysis Steve, I’ve dealt with it before, I calculated-“   
“I don’t want to hear that you calculated the risks. YOU PURPOSELY PUT YOURSELF _AT RISK._ ARE YOU A MORON?”   
Tony was showing remarkable effort at keeping his voice calm.   
“No, I just needed to get you and Barton out of there.”   
“BUT YOU PARALYSED YOURSELF.”   
“And I’d do it again, because you are safe.”   
“But you almost died. I can’t keep doing this Tony,” Steve moaned into his hands.   
“Doing what?” Tony asked apprehensively.   
“This,” Steve waved a hand over Tony, “this sacrifice play. I can’t keep watching you put yourself in the firing line. Watching you lay down on the wire.”   
“You once said I wasn’t the type to let the other crawl over me, and now I am you are still yelling. Can I win with you?”   
“Out of all the reckless things, and trust me there is a lot, this is the worst.”   
Thor tried to break the growing animosity between the couple, as the rest of the team stood terrified, “Brother Stark is hardly the most reckless of men.”   
“You are kidding,” Steve barked out a humourless laugh, “What, there were all the Iron Man tests where he threw himself across the workshop, then the actual test flight where you ignored all of Jarvis’s warnings and almost froze yourself and plummeted. Or the palladium poisoning. And not even telling Pepper. Driving an F1 race car with no practise or training. Fighting with Rhodey over a birthday party. Took on the God of Thunder, no offence Thor,” Thor waved off Steve with a hand, still trying desperately to get between the men, lest one of them come to blows, “Oh and trying to bring out the Hulk, no offence Banner,” Bruce took none, just shrunk back into the armchair, “Or shall we talk about more recently? Attacked a Norse God and got turned into a child. Or,” Clint was fiddling with his phone absently, hands flying, “Flew THROUGH a giant turtle, exploded its shell and got impaled by the shell shrapnel that pierced your fucking suit.”   
And then disaster struck. Clint’s phone began playing the worst thing imaginable.   
“ _Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame. Darling, you give love a bad name.”  
_ Both Steve and Tony turned to Barton, murderous looks in their eyes. Natasha placed a hand on Clint’s shoulder and pulled him behind her.   
“Turn off your phone,” she hissed in his ear.   
He froze, staring in horror as the men kept arguing.   
“You are one of the most fucking moronic people I know, you keep putting yourself in these positions where you could die, you irresponsible, reckless, stupid idiot.”   
“Oh you want to talk irresponsible. You want to talk reckless. Where do I begin?” Tony snarled bitterly at Steve, his mouth curving into a parody of a smile, “let’s see. Stole a Quinjet off of the SHIELD helicarrier. Or the time you body slammed into the bloody giant moths, which I could have handled fine without your assistance. Or the time you tried to stop a fucking armoured van. With. Your. BODY! Or the time you got blasted out of a bank window while fighting the Chitauri. Or the time you went head to head with Thor with nothing but your _Shield_. Despite knowing he was a GOD. Or the time you chased down a Hydra assassin through the streets of New York after having gone through a pretty intense scientific procedure. USING A TAXI DOOR AS A SHIELD. Or the time you completely ignored me and the team about Camp Kilmer, and got yourself stabbed in the gut. Or that time you stormed a Hydra base on your own to rescue men who you didn’t know if they were dead or alive, as well as breaking military protocol,” Tony’s voice had risen to shouting, face red with anger.   
“Since when have you ever cared about protocol,” Steve snarled back.   
Tony just spoke over him, ignoring him, “Or, top of the list of crazy, reckless things, let a mad German Scientist experiment on you because you were so desperate to go running into a war. So desperate to feel useful, so desperate to escape who you are, to get that second chance that you let my dad risk your damn life in the name of science. At least everything I do is calculated, I don’t jump out a plane without a parachute. But do explain to me how it is _entirely_ different when it’s you. No wait, I’ll save your breath. Because you are Captain America, who when he takes a risk he does it for the greater good. But I am Tony Stark, who even when he does something right, he does it hopelessly hilariously wrong. That about the size of it?”   
And with that, Tony swung his leather jacket over his shoulder and stormed out the door. The room was silent, except for the Clint’s phone, music still playing.   
“ _You give love a bad name.”_   
“Shut that off,” Coulson ordered.   
Clint instantly turned off the music, everyone in the room was staring at the door Tony had just raged through. Pepper wandered in, head still looking down the corridor.   
“Did I just miss something? Because Tony looked like he was about to straight up murder someone.”   
They all just continued staring at the door. Steve was still frozen, hand outstretched as though he had tried to grab Tony before he left, fingers closed on thin air. Pepper shuffled awkwardly.   
“Okay, starting to freak me out here. Which is hard to do, I’ve worked for Tony for years.”   
“Did- did that just happen?” Clint asked.   
“Either that or shared hallucination,” Coulson replied.   
“I think I would have preferred hallucination,” muttered Bruce, arms hugging himself and skin tinged an almost unnoticeable green.   
Pepper walked over to Steve, and waved a hand over his eyes. Not even a blink.   
“Okay, someone needs to tell me what is going on right now.”   
“Brother Stark and the good Captain had a verbal altercation.”   
“Oh that makes sense. First one?”   
For the first time in the five minutes Pepper had been with them, Steve moved. A jerky sort of nod. He still didn’t tear his gaze from the doorway, letting his hand fall limply to his side.   
“Okay, not just a fight. A _Tony_ fight,” she said, adding emphasis to the name.   
“Tony fight?” Banner questioned.   
“Have any of you been in a fight with Tony where it feels like he just cut your guts open and you handed him the knife to do it?”   
Steve and Bruce nodded frantically, the others looking horrified by the concept. Steve was pale, a nauseous look set on his face.   
“Any idea where he went?” Pepper gently asked them.   
“No. Oh god, he could be anywhere.”   
“Jarvis?” Pepper asked.   
“Sir has made no flight plans, nor requested any of the suits. All cars are accounted for. All this suggests that sir has remained in New York for the time being.”   
The AI sounded sympathetic, of course it did, Tony designed it to be as realistic as possible. And trust Steve to find comfort in that.

                                                                                                                   

Steve assumed Tony needed a few hours to cool off, and he would return. This didn’t stop him calling every five minutes and texting in between. But when a few hours turned into a few days, Steve really started panicking. He tried to convince himself that Tony needed space, that he wasn’t kidnapped or lying dead in the gutter or in the arms of another- oh god, not going there. But Tony hadn’t answered a single text, phone just kept ringing and ringing until it hit voicemail again.   
“Hey, it’s Tony except it’s not because I can’t answer the phone right now. I’ll call you back when I’m not doing something better and blonder than you.” Then the shrill beep sounded, time to leave another message.   
“Tony,” and Steve’s voice broke immediately, half sobbing into the first word, “Tony, please come home. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. Please just come home so we can talk about this. Please Tony. I can’t- I just want you home.”   
As usual there was still no answer. No return call. And Steve’s heart felt like it was breaking just a little more. He wanted Tony back in his arms, but it seemed like Tony didn’t want to be there anymore. Everyone was helping him try to find Tony, the team almost as worried as he was.

 

“Hey Rhodey,” Pepper answered her phone, sounding tired.   
“Bad time?”   
“Always, but especially bad right now. Tony has gone voluntarily missing.”   
“I was going to ask about that, he’s not answering my texts.”   
“He isn’t answering anyone’s. And he’s told Jarvis not to tell anyone where he is.”   
“What happened?”   
“ _Tony_ fight. With Steve.”   
“Oh god.”   
“Yeah,” she replied sadly.   
“What about?”   
“His recklessness. You always managed to find him after our fights, any idea where he might be.”   
“I think I might.”   
“Any chance you could tell me?”   
“Sorry you know I can’t. He made me swear after the first time I found him.”   
“Okay. I gotta go now. Text me when you find him.”   
“Will do.”   
“I’ll call you later.”   
“And I look forward to it.”

 

Tony was exactly where Rhodey thought he’d be. He climbed up into the attic, a long climb considering how many floors and rooms the old Stark Mansion had. No lights were on, the mansion looked empty to the untrained eye. But then again, Rhodey’s weren’t untrained. The kicked up doormat and half opened curtain next to the front door told him all he needed to know. And now he was leaning out of the attic window, looking over the exquisite if overgrown back garden, and trying to figure out the route Tony used to climb onto the roof.   
“Drainpipe to your left,” came a soft voice from above.   
Rhodey shimmied up, looking at the man lit by the New York night life. And there was no other way Rhodey could think to phrase this, Stark looked dead in the inside.   
“Hey Rhodey-bear,” Tony said tonelessly, “fancy meeting you here.”   
“You aren’t answering my texts.”   
“I don’t know where I put my phone. It’s downstairs somewhere.”   
“You? You don’t know where your technology is?”   
Bad sign, very bad sign. Tony lived for his Tech. His hair was hanging limply over his face, usually so carefully styled. As Rhodey brushed against him, he felt damp fabric against his bare arms.   
“Tony, why are you wet?”   
“I am? I guess I’ve been out here a while.”   
Dammit, it had rained yesterday. Tony had clearly not moved from his spot since then. Maybe even before. And now that he looked, Tony was trembling minutely. Rhodey rubbed up and down his arms, trying to get the man warm. Tony hadn’t even noticed.   
“What happened?” Rhodey asked, concern curling in his tone.   
“I did what I do best.”   
“Which is?”   
“I am not nearly drunk enough for this conversation, you know that Rhodey.”   
“Good thing I brought these.”   
Rhodey pulled out two six packs and cracked open a can. Tony hesitated for a moment before grabbing one for himself.   
“You have horrible taste in beer.”   
“Whatever, you’re still drinking it so it can’t be that bad.”   
Once one six pack was gone, split not quite evenly between Tony and Rhodey, Tony’s tongue got a little looser, if a little thicker in his mouth.   
“I fucked up Rhodey-honey. Dad was right, I am nothing but a huge disappointment.”   
Rhodey knew that was why Tony always ended up here, at the Stark Mansion after a _Tony_ argument. It was an act of repentance, forcing himself to spend time in a place he despised, years of abuse burned into his memory was housed in these walls. He knew Tony’s memory always jumped to the worst when he was here.   
“I just don’t know when to shut up. The things I said to Steve, oh god. I don’t want to go back. He doesn’t want to- He dumped- We broke up. I’m not going back.”   
“If the two of you talk this over you can fix it. And you can’t avoid the tower forever.”   
“Not forever. Just until I die.”   
“So you plan on hiding up here for the next forty years.”   
“You have high expectations for my life expectancy. I mean statistically-“   
“Tony shut up, I really don’t want to imagine you dying. I once spent three months solid doing that.”   
There was silence for a few minutes, Tony grabbing a new beer from the other six pack and downing it. He was staring forlornly across the garden, fingers tapping against the can.   
“I just can’t lose him.”   
“I know.”   
“He just doesn’t get it. I’m not stupid, I calculate everything. And of course I would get him out of the way. And Clint. Does he think I would just leave them there when I could get them out? Does he really think I could do that? He may have super serum but I have a super suit. Not like I can’t protect myself. And him. I don’t want to hurt him. But me being with him hurts him, just like it did Pepper. I won’t do that to him. I’m staying away. I should tell him that. Where’s my phone?”   
Tony stood, tipsily wavering, which was rather dangerous considering the fact they were sat on the roof of a five storey mansion. Rhodey tugged him down and hid his own phone from view. Tony fell against Rhodey, elbowing him in the ribs accidentally. Rhodey spluttered a little, Tony instantly worried.   
“Oh god, Rhodey. I’m so sorry, idiot, idiot, idiot. Steve was right, I am just an idiot.”   
“I doubt he meant that. Just a heat of the moment thing. You said stuff you didn’t mean right?”   
“Yeah.”   
“I bet Steve did too.”   
“I doubt it. _He_ was right.”

 

Soon Tony had finished off the entirety of the other six pack. Tony was mumbling inconsolably into Rhodey’s shoulder, dry sobs escaping him. Whenever he looked up, Tony’s eyes were huge and liquid and exhausted. Honestly, Rhodey thought it might hurt less if Tony actually cried, cathartic venting. Not this holding back, toneless voiced stoicism. Suddenly a red head popped over the edge of the rooftop, hair glinting in the New York lights. She dipped back down again, relief clear on her face.   
“He’s up here,” she called softly.   
Then Natasha hoisted herself delicately onto the roof. She threw a leather jacket around Tony’s shoulders.   
“He left it downstairs, thought he’d be cold. Wasn’t quite expecting him to be on the roof.”   
She then eyed up the beer cans, shooting Rhodey a poisonous look.   
“He quit. You know that. How many has he had?”   
“Four real ones.”   
“Real ones?”   
Rhodey tossed her an empty can, picking up another and tapping just under the brand name. Non-alcoholic, Natasha read. Some of the tension left her body at that.   
“How drunk is he?”   
“Not especially. More of a placebo effect. He thinks he drank more than he did.”   
A blond head peered over the edge of the roof. “Oh thank god, Tony.” Tony’s head snapped up at Steve’s voice, seeking the familiar sound. Steve climbed onto the roof gracelessly, lying on his stomach and flinging his legs over. After his indelicate entrance he was by Tony’s side in the next second.   
“I think it’s time we take our leave now Colonel.”   
“Agreed.”   
Once back in the attic Rhodey turned to Natasha.   
“How did you find us?”   
“Pepper said she called you.”   
“Did she say what about?”   
“No but you’ve known Tony longer than any of us. So it was a safe assumption that she was asking for advice. So I tracked the GPS on your phone with Jarvis.”   
“That’s… scary.”   
“Super spy, I deal in scary.”

 

Tony was trying to pull back from Steve, visibly shaking as tremors went up and down his body.   
“I’m so sorry,” they both exclaimed at the same time.   
“No I’m sorry, please I-“ they both said in sync.   
“That was weird,” they said in tandem.   
Steve grinned reassuringly at Tony, trying not to force him but to get him to sit a little closer next to Steve. And it worked. Sort of. Tony shuffled an inch closer.   
“I’m so sorry Steve,” Tony started, leaning forward trying to convey his desperation, his genuine penitence, “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”   
“Me too, I’m really sorry. Please just- please can we try again?”   
“Try again?”   
“You wanted to break up?”   
“Noooo,” Tony said confused, “you wanted to break up.”   
“You’ve been ignoring my calls and texts for the past three days.”   
“I don’t know where my phone is. And I thought you wanted to break up. You said you couldn’t do this. You couldn’t do… me. I mean that was horrible, the stuff I said,” Tony shuddered at the memory.   
“That’s stupid,” Steve said and regretted as he watched Tony flinch, “I mean how could I ever want to break up with you? Witty, intelligent, sarcastic, filthy-minded, dumb you.”   
“Way to sweet talk Rogers, only about two of those were nice.”   
But there was a slight smile on his face. Shy, uncertain, but there. Steve leant in and pecked the tip of Tony’s nose, his cheek, his jaw. He peppered Tony in kisses until that smile became more bold.   
“I love you, Tony.”   
Then Tony’s face just crumpled, smile dying, and eyes filling with tears. He hid his face against Steve’s chest but the growing wet patch on his shirt told him enough. He pulled Tony close, listening to his litany of apologies and self-recriminations between bitten off sobs.   
“I’m so sorry… I thought it was over… I thought you didn’t think it was worth it… I’m sorry… I should have come home sooner… I just thought… I’m sorry… All my fault… such an idiot… I’m sorry…”   
“Shush Tony, it’s okay. I love you. We are a couple, we’ll argue. It’ll happen. It doesn’t mean I want to break up with you because of it. Okay?”   
He got a nod and a hiccup in response. Then Tony began kissing his chest through his shirt, moving up to Steve’s neck and eventually his lips. He could feel the desperate need for reassurance in every tentative press of Tony’s lips, and in return tried to put as much comfort into every returned kiss as possible. He could feel Tony murmur softly against his skin, words ghosting over him.   
“Ti Amo, Ti Amo, Ti Amo.”   
“I love you too. Want to go home?”   
Tony nodded, but not releasing his grip on Steve, having somehow worked his hand into Steve’s. Steve just picked him up and guided Tony’s hands to clasp behind Steve’s neck. Tony obediently locked his hands together, looping his legs around Steve’s waist. Somehow Steve managed to climb back down the drainpipe, Tony’s knees digging into his ribs as he climbed. A faint whimper and Tony pressed his face into the junction of Steve’s neck and shoulder. Once safely back inside, Steve kissed Tony, long and loving and full of every ounce of relief he was feeling to have Tony back in his arms. It was only when he had gotten Tony into a car that he noticed. And he only noticed thanks to the lights inside. Tony looked horrible. Well he never looked horrible to Steve but this was something he hadn’t noticed earlier, relief blinding him. But Tony had greasy hair, limply hanging across his face, and dark shadows under his eyes, exhaustion darkening the skin. His clothing beneath the leather was damp and cold, Tony’s skin slightly clammy to the touch because of it.   
“Did you sleep while you were away?”   
Tony shook his head, body heavy against Steve’s.   
“Shower?”   
Again a negative.   
“Eat and drink?”   
Another negative. It was unlikely Tony was in full health then.

 

They arrived back at the Tower, having dropped Rhodey off at his apartment. Natasha sped ahead, to deliver the news to the team and to get them to clear out.   
“Food, shower, bed.”   
Tony murmured in agreement, allowing himself to be hauled into the elevator. Tony microwaved soup, and drank it fast. His tongue was so used to be being burned from coffee that he hadn’t even flinched from the heat. He followed Steve to the shower, eyes never rising from their position locked on the floor. Steve pulled him into the shower, raising his chin to plant a tender kiss on his favourite pair of lips. He seated Tony on the shower floor, settling him into the V of his legs as he sat with him. Tired beyond belief, Tony was barely able to keep his head up. Light fingers worked shampoo through sodden curls, a hand swiping away suds before they reached Tony’s barely open eyes. The showerhead was detached and used to rinse out the soap from the tangles. Steve dolloped conditioner in his hand then massaged it through Tony’s hair. The action pulled a pleased moan from the smaller man, a smile curling across his lips. He lightly teased the curls, before rinsing out the conditioner as well. Then in a move faster than even Steve’s super senses were prepared for, Tony flipped himself around and straddled Steve. He kissed him tentatively, reverently, worshipping as he pushed the man down so he was lying on the shower floor. And then, despite the environment designed for cleaning, things turned dirty. Really dirty.

 

One thing Steve hadn’t expected to learn from all of this was that make up sex was amazing. Tony had been impossibly attentive to him and he felt dizzy from the multiple orgasms (bless the super serum). Tony hadn’t asked for anything, hadn’t even attempted to get himself off, and Steve could see guilt flashing in his eyes every time they briefly met with his own. Steve soon fixed that with a firm touch in all the right places. He soon had Tony out of his mind blissed, every worry forgotten and silent voice begging to come undone. The feel of flesh on flesh, over sensitised from pleasure, left them both euphoric and eventually they collapsed back onto the pillows, sweaty and exhausted but Tony was grinning loosely, eyes unfocused and hooded in his ecstasy. Steve was panting, Tony having thoroughly worn him out (a hard task with the serum, but Tony enjoyed the challenge). Tony turned into Steve, curling up against him with the arc throwing shadows across the room, still with a sappy smile on his face.   
“Can I ask you something?” Steve said, as he softly traced a finger along the outer casing of the arc.   
“Sure Cap.”   
“Why there? Why go there?”   
“It’s where I used to hide from dad.”   
Steve hated that, it made his stomach churn. That the argument had somehow been reminiscent to how Howard had treated his son. Something must have shown on Steve’s face or in his body language, because Tony was straddling Steve, eyes staring into Steve’s soul.   
“No,” he said quietly but firmly.   
“No?”   
“It was nothing like what my dad used to say. Or do. It’s just the place I go to think. Well, to think when I’m down. Okay?”   
“I’m sorry Tony.”   
“Me too. Ti Amo.”   
“Me too. I love you too.”   
“Even if you are lousy at pillow talk.”


	25. No One Wants a Decaffeinated Stark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been a while. Working on a couple of other stories and about 4 other fics for this series. I hope you like and I plan to have the last few chapters up before New Years (wish me luck). And Happy Holidays :D

# Chapter 25 - No One Wants a Decaffeinated Stark

“Eurgh gross,” Clint muttered to himself as he took a sip of the coffee pot.  
The toxic sludge at the bottom was far too caffeinated and far too bitter for Clint’s taste. He cleaned the pot and swapped out the beans for decaf, pot brewing as he viewed his mission brief.  
“Clint, are you ready?” Coulson called from the hallway.  
“Yeah,” Clint called back as he poured the small amount of coffee already brewed into a to-go cup.  
He hated these missions, ones that took him away from his family for days. They always started early in the morning, finished late at night, and he always, without fail, gets shot at. Not his favourite. But still, Coulson and Bruce were joining him, some device found that needed analysing. Clint was just acting as a long range body guard. Not only that, he had to deal with Radio silence. No cell phones, nothing. This was going to be a looooong three days. At least the whole Stark and Rogers fight was over with. After much ushering from Coulson, Clint boarded the jet.  
“Wheels up, eta in six hours.”

 

Tony hadn’t slept last night. He tried. He really did. He had faked it for hours, curled up next to Steve. Only he felt he didn’t belong there. Didn’t deserve to be there. God the stuff he said to Steve. Apologising didn’t feel like enough. He should make Steve something. Time to design. Pulling out his T.H.E. (transportable holographic engine) he began designing something special. Lights spread across the kitchen table, designs appearing and disappearing with the flick of fingers. Notes, annotations, and material details were written, script clear as it was displayed all around the room. The metal would be hardest to get but easiest to work with, at least initially. He would have to plan fast and work faster. Now was not the time to be feeling tired. Tony grabbed at the coffee that sat already brewed in the pot, draining it in one and glaring at speed calculations.  
“Not fast enough, not nearly fast enough. Can’t etch into vibranium once it sets. J, this needs to be faster.”  
“I’ll see what I can do sir.”  
“And save to my private server, no one sees this but me. And while we’re at it, set up emergency override code total access – code Uniform-Oscar-Yankee-Three-Victor-Zero-Lima-One.”  
“Access code confirmed sir.”  
“Assign it to only Captain Steven Grant Rogers, Identity code Sierra-Papa-Alpha-November-Golf-Lima-Echo-Sierra.”  
“Confirmation: code assigned to Captain Rogers.”  
“Thanks, J.”  
“You’re welcome sir, now might I suggest you get some sleep.”  
“Not yet Jarvis, I got work to do,” Tony replied manically, “plus coffee, all the coffee.”  
He refilled his cup and set to work. It didn’t take long before he felt he needed another cup. Odd, usually the boost lasts at least a couple of hours, not ten minutes. More coffee. God he needed to pee. He crept down the corridor in the dawning hours, checking to make sure that Steve was still soundly asleep. He was and so Tony crept to the bathroom. Bladder emptied, he returned to the kitchen table. He stared blankly for a minute or several, brain trying to push through the sleep barrier. The couch in the entertainments room seemed incredibly inviting right now. No. Must keep working. This is for Steve. The holographs dimmed as dawn light reached through the window. The metal would show up in the next couple of days, the remodel for the synthesising beam would take a few days as well. After that he would only have a few hours to shape and etch into the metal. Steve always likes Dummy, You, and Butterfingers, maybe he could get them to contribute. He yawned, making changes to the shape and wording he had planned. His eyes felt heavy. Just get the design finished then… then…

 

Steve wasn’t overly happy this morning. He had hoped to wake up next to his partner, maybe treat them both to breakfast in bed, go for a run. But the bed was empty, the sheets beside him cold to the touch. He dressed for his run and took off at a steady pace. With every beat of his feet against the pavement he grew both angrier and more concerned.  
_Does he still feel guilty?_  
_If he does, he should have come to me._  
 _Except he feels bad about the argument WITH YOU._  
 _But I thought we made up._  
 _Evidently there is more to it._  
 _Unless he just woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep._  
 _He hadn’t slept because of the argument, he should have been out like a light._  
 _He won’t have slept, will he? Definitely not._  
 _Why does he do that to his health?_  
By the time Steve returned to the tower he was worn out from thoughts of the billionaire. He decided to head to the communal kitchen, the fridge there always the best stocked. He was about to walk straight into the kitchen when a red head blocked his path. She held a finger to her ruby painted lips, jerking her head to indicate not to disturb the inhabitant inside. Steve stepped in, light on his feet to avoid unnecessary noise. Tony was sat up at the kitchen table, back to the door. He hadn’t even turned when Steve walked in. The T.H.E. was sitting on the table, off and dull (Tony would thank Jarvis later for that). He opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, before pulling up the seat opposite Tony. He took a moment to look at his partner, just take in the beauty before his eyes (as well as a second to thank Natasha for telling him to be quiet). A tangle of soft dark curls hid one eye from view, the other closed in sleep. He was propped up on an elbow, cheek in hand with its fingers lost beneath a mess of hair. His legs, though Steve couldn’t see them as they were hidden by the table between them, were propped against the bar at the bottom of the chair. His back was bent awkwardly in a manner Steve knew would cause his partner pain in the coming days. It would be kinder to wake him and drag his stubborn ass to bed. Only the decision was taken from him. Tony’s cheek slipped off his hand, head smacking into his arm as it turned sideways. He jolted awake, eyes alarmed.  
“Hey sleepy,” Steve murmured softly, all annoyance traded for amused affection.  
“Wasn’t asleep,” Tony groaned childishly, “just resting my eyes.”  
“Oh yeah,” Steve humoured as he moved around the table, “for how long?”  
“What time is it?”  
“About twenty past seven.”  
“Shit. I’ve wasted time.”  
Tony grabbed the coffee pot and T.H.E. before fleeing the room.

 

God, he was tired. He drained the entire coffee pot in one, still feeling no more awake. The ‘resting of his eyes’ had cost him twenty minutes, how could he be so selfish?  
“Dummy, coffee please.”  
Tony began rearranging the workshop and smashing through walls, setting up the prism to synthesise the metal. Dummy rolled over, whirring sadly.  
“What? No beans?”  
Tony looked on disappointedly at the coffee machine in the corner. He ran back upstairs and filled up the coffee pot again. He carried it downstairs, steaming gently. Hours of work later and half the remodel was done. The coffee was cold but he drained the last, trying to fight the itching feeling of his eyes that screamed he needed to be in bed. He set up the tubes and pipes ready for the synthesiser. Before sleep overtook him again and he slumped over one of the pipes he just fixed to the wall. Steve came down at lunch time, carrying one of Natasha’s stir-frys. At first Steve couldn’t see Tony through the clutter. Then as he weaved through parts of machines whose function he couldn’t even attempt to guess he spotted Tony, in all his sleep deprived glory. Except Tony was sleeping again. Twice. In the same day. Asleep. Tony was thrown over a pipe, still standing but upper body curled over in an ungainly position. Tony would really be suffering from horrible back pain when he woke. A wrench was loosely clasped in his hand and Steve darted forward to catch it as it slipped from his grasp. It looked like he had just fallen asleep in the middle of work. Tony… had fallen asleep while working. That just didn’t seem possible. Something was up. He scooped up the sleeping genius and tucked his head against his shoulder. Tony lolled a little, before groaning and waking a little. Not enough to protest but enough that he knew it was Steve and something was up with him. He pressed a drowsy kiss to Steve’s cheek and allowed himself to be carted upstairs.

 

Steve set him down on the sofa, middle and index finger tapping on Tony’s cheek to rouse him gently. Tony opened his eyes, grumpy frown settling in on his face. Steve felt Tony’s forehead, no sign of unnatural warmth, then his neck with no sign of heightened or lowered pulse. Tony seemed fine. He asked Jarvis to get Natasha and Thor, both of them came running at an alarming pace. Tony was somewhat awake now, looking into the penlight Natasha was shining in his eyes.  
“Well it’s no poison I’ve ever used or encountered. Doesn’t seem to be a concussion either.”  
“Nor like any Asgardian malady I have seen.”  
“So you are saying Tony is healthy?”  
“I think so Cap,” Natasha said doubtfully.  
“Then why does he keep falling asleep?” Steve demanded, knowing no answer was forthcoming in present company.  
“The good Doctor will return in two nightfalls, might it be more advisable to wait until then?”  
“What if Tony hasn’t got that long?”  
Tony rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck, trying to work out the kinks and knots in his muscles. Steve’s hands pulled Tony against his chest, then massaged Tony’s shoulders. Tony turned himself slightly, angled enough to kiss Steve’s lips. Which he did. Repeatedly.  
“Steve stop worrying, ‘m fine.”  
Steve returned the kisses until Tony just went limp in his arms. He was resting against Steve, eyes dipped closed and snuffling breathing.  
“Did he just fall asleep? While you were kissing him?”  
Steve was just staring aghast at the man in his arms, snoozing peacefully. He finally nodded at Natasha, both her and the God sharing concerned glances.

 

Meanwhile, somewhere in a rainforest in South America, Clint was panicking. Not about the job, but the situation back home.  
“Oh god, Nat’s going to kill him.”  
“No she won’t. But I will kill you if you don’t sit still long enough for me to dress that wound.”  
“Calm down, barely a glancing shot. And she will, they don’t know.”  
“What don’t they know?” Banner asked as he finally tuned into the conversation.  
He was busy monitoring the device, trying desperately to ignore Agent Barton’s infuriating pacing.  
“Agent Barton accidentally swapped out the caffeine for decaf, and left it like that when we went on the mission. Stark is drinking decaf.”  
Bruce paled.  
"Either Tony is dead, the entire population of super-villains is dead, or he and Steve broke up and he has now turned to a life of super-villainy,” Coulson commented evenly, both Barton and Banner dangerously white, “you should both sit down,” Coulson added as he finished cleaning Barton up and began loading the device into a waiting unmarked SHIELD van.  
“Can’t we contact them at all?” Clint whined into Coulson’s ear, pleading and desperate and needy.  
“You know protocol, no breaking radio silence. If we risk our position, we’ll all end up dead, and the device in enemy hands.”  
“I’m pretty certain the world would prefer that to a decaffeinated Stark,” Bruce joked, only it fell flat.  
“Let’s hurry up, the sooner we finish the sooner we can get back.”  
“Agreed,” Coulson and Banner chorused.

 

Tony was almost done. The next part was completed quickly and metal etched. He let Butterfingers, Dummy, and You etch onto one of the dog tags. He smiled at what the bots had written. ‘Part of the Family’ written in mismatched bot-writing. This was quickly followed by the override code on the other side. The other dog tag had set far faster than Tony wanted. He had taken too long on one side, lethargy slowing him down. He barely managed to scratch on the words he wanted. Dammit. He had fucked up. It wasn’t enough. He knew it wasn’t. And to make it worse he’d made Steve worry more. He’d finished though. He just didn’t know how to actually give it to Steve, the chain and tags were clasped in his hand, hidden by a clenched fist. He decided to just do it in secret. Steve found him collapsed on his workbench and carried him up to bed, concerned frown steady on his face. If Tony had seen it he would have only felt worse. But he woke up with Steve holding him, half dozing with his head nuzzled into Tony’s hair. He waited for Steve’s breathing to steady, eye lashes to flutter as REM sleep neared. Only then did he shuffle into a sitting position, careful not to jostle Steve, lest he wake him up. He unravelled the chain from his fingers, keeping a hold on the tags to stop them jangling. He slipped the chain over Steve’s neck, planting a feather-soft kiss on his cheek. Steve smiled a little, turning in his sleep and wrapping an arm possessively across Tony’s chest, fingers glancing across the arc reactor. Tony settled back down, tucking himself under Steve’s arm. He knew Steve shouldn’t forgive him, not yet. He needed to make it up to Steve. He just hoped this would help, that it would be a good way to start. Conscience slightly assuaged, Tony curled up next to Steve and yawned. Slowly he slipped into an easy sleep, finally allowing himself a moment to relax.

 

Steve woke at 6:00am on the dot. He was fully prepared to go for a run until he felt his partner snuffle against his chest. There was nothing in the world that would cause him to disturb this moment. Steve sat up in bed, about to reach for his book before there was a jangle, something cold against his skin and a loosed shriek from the soldier. God he hated the cold. He turned to make sure the accidental yelp hadn’t disturbed his partner. Unsurprisingly it hadn’t, nothing could wake Tony up after he collapsed. The genius had just groaned inaudibly and rolled over, a leg and his head hanging off the edge of the bed, fingers trailing against the floor. Chuckling quietly at his lover, Steve reached down his shirt to find the offending fragment of ice. His fingers fumbled on a chain, part of it warm from body heat, the rest cold from where it had settled away from his body in the night. Pulling the chain out from his top, he saw the two dog tags dangling from it. He laughed again as he read the inscription.

_If found please return to Tony Stark, Avengers Tower, New York City, New York._

He flipped the dog tag over and it was blank. He flipped it between his fingers as he read the other tag. One side read:

_Part of the family_

It was written in three different handwritings, ‘Part’ clumsily like a child, ‘of the’ in block capitals, and ‘family’ in the neatest cursive he’d seen. On the other side of this dog tag was a frankly bizarre string of words and numbers.

_Uniform-Oscar-Yankee-Three-Victor-Zero-Lima-One_

Weird. Steve had no idea what that meant and he was about to ask Jarvis but something caught his attention. He was running his thumb across the blank side of the first tag. Except it wasn’t blank. He could feel etching on the pads off his fingers. But staring at the tag didn’t reveal a single word. He tried to hold it up in the dim light of the arc reactor but still nothing. Only when dawn light made it past skyscrapers did he manage to read it. He had to hold it at a very specific angle, light catching shadows in the etching.

_Proof that Steve Rogers has Tony Stark’s heart_

Steve couldn’t help the sob that escaped him, overwhelming affection for the idiot next to him seeping into him, his soul feeling lighter like his body was pumped full of helium. He could feel a few tears slip down his cheeks, adoration and emotion needing some form of outlet since he couldn’t pick up his sleeping genius and kiss him senseless (as much as he desperately wanted to right now). He got the feeling that Tony wouldn’t want the thanks for the amazingly sweet and thoughtful and loving present. That if he did express just how thankful he was, he would end up with a bright red retreating boyfriend as he ran to lock himself in his workshop. Steve wanted to do something in return. Anything too outrageous would just cause Tony to become embarrassed and hide in the workshop. Tony wouldn’t be up for hours, Steve had time. Time to just enjoy lying here with Tony. He gently manoeuvred the still sleeping body that was slipping slowly off the bed into a more secure position, namely the smaller man curled tight against Steve’s body and one of Steve’s arms pulled around him like a security blanket. Steve was perfectly happy to lay like that for the couple of hours before Tony would even attempt to stir from his dreams.

 

Tony woke to an empty bed. And that fucking terrified him. Steve had left him in the night, had they broken up? Did Steve not like the apology? However before he could get himself too wound up, before he could even wake himself up entirely Steve returned, laden with a tray of delicious smelling food. He placed it on Tony’s lap, and placed a kiss on his lips. Steve smiled warmly down at him.  
“Breakfast,” Steve indicated with a hand.  
“I can see that,” Tony laughed, eyebrow arched, “any reason?”  
“Can’t I just spoil you for no reason?”  
“No,” Tony grinned.  
“Then how about because I love you.”  
“That,” Tony grinned brighter, “that’s acceptable. Ti amo anch'io.”  
Steve sat down on the bed next to Tony, watching with a fond smile as Tony shovelled in waffles at astonishing speed. He still wanted to kiss the man senseless. He should at least thank him. He knew Tony struggled with ‘I love you’ in English or otherwise, and this was physical undeniable proof of his feelings for Steve. He knew such should not be taken lightly, no matter how Tony acted on the matter. He reached down his top, pulling the tags out again, letting them sit in his palm until the metal warmed up. Tony’s eyes were watching him nervously, even as he continued inhaling his food.  
“Tony,” Steve choked out, tears welling up again, “thank y-“  
Steve was abruptly cut off when a piece of jam covered toast was stuck in his mouth. Pulling the slice out and licking the sticky strawberry goo off his lips, Steve considered Tony for a moment or two. The man was already bright red in embarrassment, although he did look distinctly pleased beneath the luminous crimson blush that tinged his cheeks. Kissing his boyfriend’s lips, tasting the chocolate sauce the waffles were covered in, Steve made sure his thanks were felt in every moment of affection he could manage. But rather than giving it a voice, Steve snagged the other bit of toast, licking the raspberry jam off the surface, toast rasping against his tongue.  
“I wanted a taste,” Tony sulked, or tried to as he held back laughter.  
Tony kissed Steve’s lips, licking a smudge of jam from the corner of his mouth.  
“Tastes good, you taste better.”  
Tony’s lips moved across Steve’s jaw, eventually fixing on a spot just under Steve’s ear. The kisses were lazy and languid, no need to rush. Desire was a slow burn as they just enjoyed each other’s company. Kisses turned to pecks turned to sleepy caresses as the constantly tired engineer drifted off again, stomach full and a fleck of chocolate sauce somehow across the back of his neck. Steve swiped a finger through it as Tony traced patterns across Steve’s expansive chest in his sleep. Steve, for all his enhanced senses, didn’t notice the door open slowly and a much thankful face peer round. Only a muted sigh of relief brought Steve’s attention from where he was teasing Tony’s curls around his fingers.  
“Oh thank Thor,” Clint whispered.  
“What are you doing here Barton?” Steve asked confused.  
“Has he been okay? You guys didn’t fight again did you? There was no yelling this time was there? Nat’s going to kill me if there was.”  
“What are you on about? Tony and I are great, better than ever if I’m honest. But I don’t know if Tony’s fine, I think he’s ill. He’s been-“  
“Falling asleep everywhere, right?” Clint cut in.  
“Yeah, how did you know?”  
“Okay, this was purely an accident I promise, Coulson will back me up. But I might have tossed some left over toxic caffeine coffee and I really didn’t mean to, I meant to swap them back but I used decaffeinated and then went on the mission and I honestly didn’t mean to. Is he okay?” Clint’s words tumbled out, worry barely masked by his ‘don’t give a crap’ façade.  
“Oh, so he’s been drinking decaf? That… makes sense. Well we were all concerned, Nat thought someone was trying to poison or drug him. Thor thought it was another Asgardian virus.”  
“And you?”  
“I was perfectly calm,” Steve answered hastily.  
“Liar, he wasn’, he didn’ believe I was jus’ fine,” Tony said, not seeming to wake up at all though, “I’ll make sure Nat doesn’ kill you…”  
Tony wiggled about a bit, finally settling his head on Steve’s chest, in the place Steve knew his heartbeat could be heard the loudest. Clint nodded awkwardly and made his escape, leaving the couple in each other’s peaceful company.


	26. Why is the Hydra Symbol an Octopus?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm really sorry this took so long to update. I've been going through some things (not very fun things like depression, becoming unemployed and in desperate need of a job, and a hell of a lot of suicidal thoughts) and I tried to look after myself but with everything I just got buried and developed massive writer's block. I'm really sorry.  
> Secondly, I have several sequels to this, a couple completed and ready to post. I also have a few stand alone one shots that should be finished soon. Let me know if you want a few oneshots to tide you over until the next chapter's complete.  
> Thirdly, thank you to everyone who stuck with me and waited around for this chapter, and thank you to those who left kudos and comments. They kept me going when I needed it.
> 
> Thank you all so much, next chapter will be coming soon and I will start posting the sequel soon too.
> 
> Lastly:  
> More plot, I may or may not be building up to something. I honestly don't know. Alternatively titled: Cut off one head and the fucking thing dies.

# Chapter 26 - Why is the Hydra Symbol an Octopus?

The alarm blared loudly above them. All the Avengers were on their feet and sprinting to the quinjet. Everyone looked in dismay as Jarvis reeled off the information sent to them.  
“Hydra invasion of the SHIELD helicarrier. Intel suggests initially infiltrated from the inside so some SHIELD agents may be Hydra.”  
“Oh for fucks sake, can’t Fury control one measly spy organisation?” Tony groused, as the suit flew into the jet after him.  
It took them a couple of minutes to get to the helicarrier. But even in that slight time the battle was raging. Gunfire sounded loudly as everyone took cover. Agents were running and ducking from bombs and bullets. It was utter chaos. No one knew who was on which side.  
“Oh the mayhem, don’t you just love it?” a girl grinned at them.  
Sin. Great, more fuel for the fire. It seemed like she was waiting for them, leaning casually against the wheel of a fighter jet. Tony raised his repulsors, Steve covered them both with his shield. Thor began twirling his hammer, clouds around them darkening and crackling with electricity. Clint had an arrow ready, Natasha with her gun poised.  
“Please, go right ahead. But I am the only one here who knows who is Hydra and who is SHIELD.”  
Tony lowered his weapons, before cupping his hands around his mouth.  
“ALRIGHT, EVERYONE WHO THINKS HYDRA ARE ASSHOLES, GET YOUR GUNS AND SHOOT THIS RED HAIRED BITCH!” Tony yelled, having hacked into the SHIELD comms and speakers.  
That easily got people to separate into sides.  
“Nice tactics Mr Stark.”  
“I thought so.”  
“Not good enough though. I have back up.”  
A grenade landed at their feet, the Avengers scattering fast. Well except for Tony, who scooped it up and threw the grenade hard out into the sky. It exploded in a shower of fire, the force knocking Tony off his feet. People were firing on him, although that was pointless. It caused no damage to the suit. Didn’t stop Clint striking them with a few well-placed arrows. A putty arrow landed at one assailant’s feet, trapping him in his stride. Tony plucked the gun out his grip, tossing it over to Natasha who fired off her last shot before catching it and discarding her hand gun. She was cursing at someone in Russian, and Tony didn’t want to know who incited her fury. A man with a metal arm skidded in front of her, pulling the Hydra agent’s arm down, forcing the barrel of a gun away from Natasha as she nerve pinched him, causing the agent to drop. The chewing out in Russian continued back and forth as they tossed weapons between each other like they had spent their lives doing so. Clint was jumping from jet roof to jet roof, never ceasing his shots. Thor was out of sight but the crackle of lightning around them was ominous and spoke of him staying close. But Steve was in hand to hand combat with Sin, having disarmed her of all her blades. Tony took out a few surrounding agents. Then he watched an agent, whether SHIELD or Hydra he couldn’t tell, roll an explosive device between the fighting Captain and psychotic hydra general. And Tony launched himself towards it.

 

They say in moments between life and death time slows down and life flashes before eyes. Tony had always disagreed. At this point time sped up and all he could think of was different calculations of speed and impact and blast radius. The flashing red light on the bomb was blinking faster and faster, neither Steve nor Sin noticed. The math wasn’t adding up. He wouldn’t make it. He wouldn’t, couldn’t stop the bomb. But he saw a chance, slim as it was. He shot forward, positioning himself between Steve and the bomb just as the blast went off. The force fired Tony across the flight deck, metal screeching as it met unyielding ground. The world tumbled around him, sky to ground to sky again. But he caught sight of Steve joining him in the tumble, albeit at a far slower speed since Tony and his suit took the brunt of the force. But then Steve disappeared. Tony couldn’t remember getting to his feet nor running to the edge of the helicarrier. But the sight that followed stuck with him forever. Steve was clinging to the side of the helicarrier, unable to get a strong grip on the smooth metal beneath his palm and under his boots. Tony reached out, beckoning with red and gold fingers, silently pleading to any deity that might exist for him to just reach Steve because even a super soldier wouldn’t be able to survive this fall. Their fingertips touched before Steve lost his grip and clung tighter to the small vent that was saving him from his plummet. Tony flipped up his faceplate, eyes begging Steve to trust him and just reach out a little further. One final reach and he could feel Steve’s fingers in his. Just a little further and he could get a firm grip. And then the metal vent gave out.

 

Steve dropped with a scream. Tony flipped his faceplate down and launched himself after him. Boots weren’t working, but gloves still had some power. He aimed himself towards Steve, who laid himself spread eagle to try and increase air resistance. Tony managed to catch up, gloved hand grabbing hold of Steve’s back. He looped an arm around Steve’s waist, pulling him close. They had hit terminal velocity, falling to hard and fast. The air density was too low, and with his and Steve’s combined weight they would almost certainly die. Think, he had to think. Jarvis was displaying available systems; limited thrusters, battery life, and life support. Time to use it wisely. He lifted the faceplate and kissed Steve, the wind a high shrill whistle in his ears. He might not get another chance after all. He moved Steve around to grab on his shoulders, knees cinched on his waist and chest pressed against his back. His battery had less than five seconds of thrust left, he could connect his arc to the suit but he’d have to let go of Steve and he wouldn’t risk that. He had to time this perfectly. Use the last of his power at a point high enough to decelerate them before they hit the water, but not at a point so high they would be able to accelerate to harmful speeds again. He found his mark and fired off the repulsors, slowing them down enough that the whistle of wind ceased. There was a moment of tranquillity in which him and Steve simply hung in the air. The night sky shone above them, stars they never saw in New York lighting up the sky. There would never be a better time to say it. He flipped the faceplate up one more time, pulling Steve to face him.  
“I love you.”  
And then they fell into the darkness beneath them.

 

Tony twisted in the air slamming down into the waves. The suit was heavy, dragging him fast beneath the waters. He let go of Steve, pushing him up into air.  
“J, where are we? Nearest coast?”  
“British waters sir, just off the Jurassic Coast in Dorset. Sir, your boots’ repulsors have been damaged by the bomb blast and this suit does not have all the environmental seals. You need to evacuate and swim to the surface.”  
“If it has to be done,” Tony replied with a sense of finality, “okay, release seals and self-destruct once I am out of range. Authorisation code Bravo-Zero-Zero-Mike. Ready Jarvis? See you on the other side.”  
The suit released with a stream of bubbles. Tony trailed them up to the surface, head breaching the water with a gasp. He could feel fear raise its ugly head (ha, cut off one head, two more shall take its place). Water was choking him but the need for survival overtook the flashbacks. And the need for Steve overtook survival.  
“Steve,” Tony yelled, his voice lost in the crashing waves as they pushed him back under, “Steve,” he tried again, louder and coughing out lungful’s of water.  
“Tony,” a voice screamed back, somewhere to his right.  
Reserves of strength that hadn’t seen use since Afghanistan pulled him through the water, propelling him to his lover’s side. Where he was immediately pulled against a muscled chest. Blond hair, darkened with water, plastered to an ashen face and hiding pale blue eyes. Steve, scared and cold and potentially having a flashback.  
“Steve, hey Steve. C’mon we need to get back to land. We’re near the UK,” Tony tried to break through whatever the soldier was seeing.  
Then a massive wave struck him across the back, bowing him under the force of the water. He was dragged back down into the darkness, his arc reactor the only light. Having no clue where up or down was, he let out a thin stream of bubbles (precious oxygen and let’s ignore the flashback, we can have those later). Silver orbs floated past his chin. Upside down. Flipping himself over, he pushed himself back up into the night air. He found Steve again, managing to shake the man from his living nightmare. Said ‘shake’ requiring an unfortunate slap around the face and a lot of panicked swearing. Side by side, they fought against the current, the cliffs nearing. Steve was half dragging him along, both their energy flagging. And then they reached the cliffs, waves pushing them forward before tugging them back. The struggle against them felt futile but they were so tantalisingly close. There was a rock with holes in at the base. If they swam through there they would be protected by the cove, no waves to fight against. A few movements of his hand and Steve was following the unspoken plan of getting to shelter. The force of the next wave was strong though. Far stronger than Tony anticipated. Too strong. It pushed Steve through the opening in the cliff wall but Tony slammed straight into the cliff face. A hard crack behind his left ear and the world went dark.

 

“Tony, we made it,” Steve smiled as he pushed through shallow waters, “Tony?” he questioned when no remark, smart-aleck or otherwise was forthcoming.  
He was alone in the cove, dark waters glinting with the first signs of dawn light. Light which caught the last sight of a pale hand sinking below the water. A fresh surge of adrenaline pumped through his veins and Steve swam out to the sinking hand. He grabbed hold and pulled him out of the water and into the shallows. Carrying him, Steve laid him down on the rocky shore.  
“Hey Tony, this isn’t Afghanistan, come back to me.”  
No reply, only closed eyes and pale skin. And blood. Spreading across the white stones beneath him. Oh god. Oh God. Steve felt like he was going to be sick, couldn’t swallow, couldn’t breathe. One shaking hand tried to stem the flow, the other cupped Tony’s cheek.  
“Please Tony, wake up. Don’t leave me here. Tony, wake up for me. You always hate sleeping, so why now, come on Tony, WAKE UP.”  
Panic, terror, fear, sadness, but mostly anger. Tony didn’t get to this to him. He didn’t get to save him from a fatal plunge, save him from open oceans, and then leave him alone. They made it through worse. Not that he could think of anything worse than what was happening. There was only Tony, and blood, and the slight rise and fall of his chest and- wait… his chest, he was still breathing. He was still breathing!  
“Tony, wake up now,” Steve demanded, in the voice Tony affectionately called his ‘Captain’ voice.  
A groan, and eyelashes fluttered open, if only slightly. A thin sliver of brown was visible, gaze disorientated and confused. Blinking sluggishly, those eyes tried to close against the world.  
“No sweetie, you can’t sleep now,” Steve sobbed, unsure whether it was relief that Tony was awake or fear that Tony seemed completely unaware, “Do you know your name?”  
He got a few blinks of coffee eyes, the only sign that Tony even acknowledged that Steve had spoken.  
“Do you know your name?” He tried again.  
Uncoordinated but still attempting to move, Tony raised a hand and rested it heavily on Steve’s shoulder. He smiled softly, not the most appropriate reaction but Steve would take what he could get right now.  
“S’eve. Your name… Steve.”  
Steve was openly crying now, the hand that was resting on his shoulder reaching clumsily to wipe the tears away. As if knowing what was panicking Steve, Tony placed a hand over Steve’s heart, where Doctor Erskine's had rested a lifetime ago.  
“Steve.”  
Then moved his hand over his own arc reactor.  
“Tony.”  
Okay, that was- okay. It was definitely relief now as Steve cried.  
“What’s the date?”  
But Tony wasn’t paying attention again, his eyes staring through Steve as the hand moved lethargically through his own hair. Slowly the hand moved towards the back of his head, resting over Steve’s. He pushed down gently, wincing, before pulling the hand away to stare at his palm. Stained red, he blinked at it, brow furrowed. He then held his hand out for Steve’s inspection. Steve took it carefully, clasped in his own.  
“No’ good?” Tony slurred, eyes struggling to hold Steve’s.  
“A bit not good,” Steve smiled through his tears, because if he was going to lose Tony today, he wouldn’t let the last sight Tony had of him be a crying wreck.  
“SHIT!”  
The voice came from the cliff path above them, a young woman standing halfway up the path, leash clasped in her hand, mongrel dog tugging her down towards the men.  
“Can you help us please?”  
“What? Yeah sure, I’ll call an ambulance.”  
The girl began dialling. And then she dropped to her knees next to Tony.  
“What can I do?”  
“Pressure, here.”  
Steve guided her hand to the wound and she pressed hard, leaning to a high pitched whine from Tony.  
“S’eve, m’head hurts.”  
“I know, but we’ll fix it, we’ll fix it,” And Steve could hear the hysteria in his own voice, high-pitched and terror-filled.  
“We will,” the girl affirmed, “I refuse to have Tony Stark die on me, makes for a shit anecdote,” at the look from Steve she smiled embarrassed, “sorry I make jokes when I am scared shitless.”  
Tony’s hand reached into her mouse brown hair.  
“Brown,” he said simply.  
“Yeah, planning on dyeing it,” she replied absently, shrugging her jacket off to make a makeshift bandage.  
“Don’t. The world needs grey. Makes the colour – me – pop!”  
“Yeah but you’re not Mila Kunis, and I’m not whatshername from Orange is the New Black.”  
Sirens wailed in the distance, shrill and harsh and so very welcome. Paramedics soon surrounded them after the girl shrieked at the top of her lungs that “We’re down here.” A neck brace was eased on and Tony was placed onto the stretcher. Then he was being carried away, Steve stuck to the ground.  
“What are you doing? MOVE!”  
The girl shoved him roughly, causing him to topple from where he was perched on his knees.  
“Right, thank you."  
"MOVE!"  
“Right- Thank you, thank you.”  
“Go, you idiot.”  
She waved a blood covered hand at the fleeing figure of Captain America. With a sigh of relief and exhaustion she rose to her feet.  
“Billy, here boy, Billy,” she whistled, calling her dog who was frolicking in the water.  
She ran in after, contemplating her life decisions that led her to helping keep Tony Stark alive and breaking Captain America from shock. That would definitely be a story to tell the grandkids.

 

The last thing he could remember was water. But now bright lights were screaming above him. No, not screaming. Lights don’t scream, do they? He was pretty certain they don’t. There were voices in the room.  
“Cracked ribs, severe concussion, and fractured skull, mildly sprained right wrist, though from what you tell me, that seems more consistent with the swimming than the impact. Although potentially from the blast. And to top it off a very impressive array of bruises. All in all, it could have been a lot worse. As far as we can tell there will be no permanent damage, we’ll keep him under observation for twenty four hours and send for an MRI.”  
“No, no MRI. He can’t because of the…”  
“Ah, okay. I understand. CT scan?”  
“That’s fine.”  
“Relax Captain. You did everything right. You saved his life.”  
His blue eyes settled on Tony’s unfocussed brown.  
“I’ll relax when he’s better.”  
Then Steve was gone. Just like that. A blink and gone. Instead a doctor was standing far too close, hands reaching for Tony’s head. A sharp yell and he shoved himself backwards across the bed. He would have toppled off onto the floor, had strong arms not caught him. But that just led to more panic. Tony began twisting wildly, ignoring the flare of pain that had his eyes watering as he jarred his ribs.  
“Woah Tony, calm. It’s me. I’m still here,” came a comforting and familiar voice.   
“Steve?”  
“Yeah.”  
“You’re Steve.”  
“I am, do you know your name?”  
Tony blinked, glaring at the doctor, who had taken a step back with hands held up soothingly. Tony hunched his shoulders. Large hands covered his shoulders and began caressing along the back of his neck. The body standing behind him moved around the bed and into view, Steve in all his blond glory. Like golden strands, like sunlight. Tony cocked his head slightly, moving his gaze from the doctor to Steve. He leaned forward, reaching for Steve’s hair.  
“Shit, Tony. Sit still yeah?”  
Oh. How had he ended up sat on the floor? Steve’s arms were hooked under his, easing him back onto the bed. Tony pushed Steve’s shoulders down until Steve sat in front of him. He began carding his fingers through Steve’s hair.  
“Sunlight,” Tony grinned as Steve rested a hand on his knee.  
“Yeah Tony, sunlight.”

 

And then he was gone again. He was alone. And he needed to pee. Bathroom. Stumbling to the door, he pulled it open.  
“Lotta doors in this bathroom.”  
He staggered down to the next door, leaning heavily against the wall. His ribs screamed in protest, and his head was spinning like the… like the… like the thing that spins. Weather? Where had that come from? Throwing open door after door, he eventually found a bathroom. In the nick of time. Having relieved himself, he washed his hands. Leaving the bathroom, he was confronted with walls covered in doors. He had a room… somewhere. But he was tired. Very tired. Opening the nearest door that definitely wasn’t the bathroom he walked in. Sank to the floor. He was so tired. A nap, just a little doze surely couldn’t hurt. Steve. Steve said no. But he was so tired. A quick sleep. He lay down on the linoleum floor, pulling a mop head down from the shelf to use as a pillow. The door was opened, fluorescent light burning with it.  
“Steve, everyone, he’s in here. 5th floor janitor’s closet.”  
Clint was picking him from the floor, tenderly and gently in a manner that Tony would never have benefitted from had he been uninjured. But he was injured and lying close to unconscious on the floor.  
“Hey Tony, you can’t sleep here.”  
The thin strips of brown flashed open, look of tired annoyance clear in them.  
“Go ‘way.”  
“No Tony, back to your room.”  
“ ‘is’s my room.”  
Clint carefully eased Tony to his feet, rather alarmed by the level of swaying. Urgh the room was spinning again. He could feel the bile rising in his throat. His body felt like it was rising and falling like the tide.  
“Sea,” Tony exclaimed vaguely.  
“What?” Clint glanced at him in confused worry.  
“Sea,” Tony choked out again, as his body jerked.  
Stomach lurching, he pushed Clint away as he dry heaved. Clint kept him held upright, slowly moving him back towards his room. Steve came barrelling down the corridor, bending down over Tony to try and catch his gaze. Weather? No, spinning weather. Hurricane. No.  
“Cyclone, Steve.”  
“Cyclone?”  
“Coney Island.”  
And then Tony vomited on the floor.  
“Fuck,” Steve exclaimed, “is he okay?” he directed at Clint.  
“Yeah Cap, after a head injury like that I’m surprised he’s making as much sense as he is.”  
Leaning heavily against the wall, Steve and Clint bracketing him on each side to stop him sliding straight back to the floor.  
“Barton, grab the nurse, I’m going to take Tony back to his room.”  
Steve swung Tony up, hooking an arm under his legs and the other resting at the small of his back. Tony’s head lolled against his chest.  
“S’eve, ‘m tired.”  
“I know sweetie, I just want to check with the doctor if it’s safe for you to sleep.”  
Tony nodded against his chest, eyes slipping closed.  
“ ‘s fine.”

 

He must have dozed, because he awoke to a stream of questions.  
“Name?”  
“Tony,” he murmured, clutching at Steve’s arm that had remained in his grip since Steve placed him back on the bed.  
“Where are we now?”  
“Somewhere ‘n England, Jarvis said Dorset.”  
“How did we get here?”  
Tony frowned into the bed covers, hands momentarily tightening around Steve’s wrist. Then in the faintest murmur he said “can’t ‘member” before hiding his face in the sheets.  
“Who else is here with us?”  
Tony frowned at him, glancing around the room. The entire team was standing around, glancing at him anxiously; concern plain as day on their faces. Even Natasha’s. Following him. Annoying.  
“Okay, not tracking again, how are you feeling?”  
Like his head was full of wool, whole body ached, and he felt cold. The arm he was hugging seemed to be the only warm thing near him.  
“Sheep.”  
“Bruce, any ideas on what he means?”  
Curly salt and pepper hair knelt down in front of him, fuzzy and out of focus. Something bright was screaming in his eyes. No, still not screaming, what do lights do? It felt so loud though.  
“Shush,” he moaned, pushing Banner’s light away from his face.  
Only it wasn’t a penlight, it was Natasha’s hand reaching out to brush the hairs from his forehead. He mimicked her movement, hand smoothing dark curls. Then they felt brittle. He rubbed his fingers through them, drawing them back. Reddish brown, almost powdery. Brick dust? No. Blood. Natasha. Red hair. Blood. He reached forward, needing to check if she was okay. He almost fell off the bed as he stretched but it was worth it, despite her slight yelp of pain.  
“Ouch, you fucker, don’t pull on my hair.”  
But she was sat down next to him, letting him lean against her back as he ran fingers over her scalp. Tapping her on the shoulder, she spun around assuming the end of her own medical examination. Tony rubbed the blood off his hand.  
“Red.”  
Then pointed to her hair.  
“Red. But not red.”  
She peered at the back of his head, then smiled.  
“Yeah not red. How are you feeling?”  
He bleated at her in a pretty impressive imitation of a sheep.  
“Still woolly headed from the drugs then?”  
“ ‘nd cold,” he nodded, “S’eve?”  
“Popped out for the moment.”  
Popped? Like a balloon? Steve couldn’t pop. Shit, what if Steve popped?  
“Steve,” Tony called out frantically, trying to scramble across the floor, “STEVE!”  
“Thor, Clint, I need help in here.”  
Two figures burst through the door, levering him back onto the bed, despite frantic cries. Then in a blink he was alone in silence again, muzzy head slowly replaced by pain radiating from everywhere. Fatigue in his muscles, stabs in his ribs, and a full out wildfire of burning agony in the back of his head.

 

“What are you doing out here?”  
“Sitting.”  
“Well Rogers, why are you in the stairwell and why aren’t you doing that in there?”  
“Do we really have to go through all this Nat?”  
“You tell me.”  
“I mean it’s my fault,” he sucked in a shaky breath before his face crumpled, “if I hadn’t of… he wouldn’t have followed me. And he wouldn’t be stuck here. It’s all my fault.”  
“Shut up. If he hadn’t of followed you, we’d be scanning the ocean for your corpse and have a half demented with grief genius trying to pull a Frankenstein on us.”  
“But he-“  
“No. Stop blaming yourself. It was his choice. He is hopelessly, impossibly in love with you to such a level that he might not even realise. Of course he was going to follow you. Allow him the dignity and the responsibility of his choice. Don’t treat him like what he did was - how did he put it? – hopelessly, hilariously wrong.”  
Clint joined them, lowering himself down onto the stairs just above Nat, staring at Steve propped up against a wall.  
“Yeah, put yourself in his shoes. Although I guess it’s easier for me, far more than my fair share of concussions. But he's confused, disorientated, drugged, in a strange place, keeps losing track of time, having trouble forming clear thoughts, and the only person he desperately wants and trusts to be at his side has gone AWOL. Not to mention he seems to be slowly recognising that there was a fight, so he is probably panicking that you are injured too. You’re the person he’s been calling out to.”  
“But I-“  
“Stop it now Cap. Say someone shot at the President but a secret service guard jumped in the way. Would you say that person’s injury is the president’s fault for existing, or would you blame the shooter?”  
“Well the shooter, of course,” Steve looked at Clint incredulously.  
“Exactly. Except you are the president. Time to start blaming the shooter,” he stood up and with a final glance at Natasha and Steve he started to head downstairs, “I’m getting food before the canteen closes. I’ll grab you both something.”  
“Now go to his room,” Natasha said, starting back on Steve, “he’s been crying out for y- why is it so quiet?”  
And it was. Deathly quiet. The white noise of Tony’s shouts for Steve had gone, fallen silent during their conversation.

 

“Tony,” Steve called softly as he entered the room.  
Steve had hoped he had simply fallen asleep. But Tony was sat on the bed, his legs were pulled to his chest, blocking out every glimpse of light that the arc should have been throwing across the room. His head was pressed to his knees, arms wrapped around himself. Steve approached the bed, settling down on the side.  
“Tony what’s wrong?”  
“My fault. Steve left. Cold. Pain. Everything hurts.”  
Misery was radiating from Tony, body as small as he could make it, even though the pain in his chest must have reached excruciating.  
“I’m sorry," Steve breathed, "I’m here now. Your pain meds must have worn off, and you’re cold from mild hypothermia. You’ll warm up soon.”  
But Tony was staring through Steve, blankly trying to look at the door behind.  
“Hey Tony,” Steve cupped his face, trying to bring his line of sight back on Steve, “you want me to stay?”  
Tony nodded silently, shaking hands ensnaring Steve’s. Tony lay down, dragging Steve on the bed with him.  
“ ‘m tired.”  
“It’s okay to sleep, Tony.”  
A soft “mhmm” was all the affirmation he received before he had a genius curling against his chest. And only now that he had uncurled from his ball of pain could Steve see a tear streaked face that spoke of pain and hysteria. He pulled Tony closer, placing a kiss on his forehead. Softly brushing away the remnants of tears, he placed another kiss on the tip of his nose. Tony smiled slightly, nose scrunching up and pulling himself impossibly closer to the Captain.

 

He awoke on his own, vague recollections of “name, age, and colour of the sky?” proving concussion watch was over. He could hear the murmurs of the team and huffs of breathes against the back of his neck. Steve was stuck to his back, one hand resting on his stomach, the pleasant weight and heat easing the muscles. He started to turn, to face Steve, but his ribs jarred. A faint hiss from behind clenched teeth escaped him.  
“Hey Tony, you awake?”  
Bruce. He nodded, not trusting his voice to speak just yet.  
“How are you feeling?”  
“Like I got hit by the helicarrier turbines again. That didn’t happen right?” he croaked.   
“No, more like hit around the head with a rock.”  
“Ouch.”  
“Pretty much everyone’s sentiments. You had us all worried there,” and that was Bruce's gentle reprimand.  
“Really? Why?” Tony asked, his eyes wide.   
“Tony, you dived off the helicarrier.”  
“I did?”  
“You don’t remember?”  
He shook his head then groaned as the world spun again.  
“Woah, easy Tony. What _do_ you remember?”  
He rubbed his eyes, trying to clear away the last vestiges of sleep.  
“A fight I think. Then a lot of water. Had to blow my suit. There was a dog. Then a lot of confusion.”  
“Oh, eventful couple of days,” Bruce said with a wan smile.   
“You almost sound disappointed.”  
“No, just worried. You normally try to hide this and escape hospital. Serious head injuries can affect personality.”  
“Don’t worry Brucie-bear, I’m timeless. I’ll never change.”  
“Don’t know if I am relieved or terrified.”  
“Why not both?” Tony grinned tiredly.  
“Still doesn’t explain all the honesty.”  
“I’m trying something.”  
“Really?” and the scepticism was heavy in his tone.   
“Yeah, it’s not working for me. So I’ll lie in future for your peace of mind Doc.”   
That finally got a reluctant smile out of the worried doctor and best friend, “Glad to hear it.”  
Steve nuzzled against the back of his neck, a snicker escaping the mechanic. Bruce ruffled his hair fondly then went back to his seat. Finally, Tony actually made the effort to take in his surroundings. They were on the quinjet, Tony lying on the medical bed they had in there, half lying on top of Steve. A gentle landing and they were back at Avengers Tower. Steve carried him inside, strong arms carefully not hurting his ribs. But still everything ached.  
“Sit up Tony, Bruce needs to change your dressing and you need your meds. Just painkillers, don’t worry.”  
Tony nodded, somewhat miffed by the molly-coddling. Steve and Bruce had him set up on the sofa in the entertainments room, a mountain of pillows behind him to support him in his sat up position. A stubborn roll of his eyes but he eased up so Bruce could swap out the bandages. Steve went and fetched the strongest painkillers they had in the tower, offering Tony a glass of water with them. After about 15 medical checks in 30 minutes Bruce finally decided Tony was alright to be left alone for a minute or too. Well he wasn’t entirely alone. Steve had been his constant shadow, a hand to hold and an arm for support. But he was fidgeting. So much so that a tired, dazed, and now medicated Tony noticed.  
“What’s wrong?”  
“Nothing,” Steve said defensively.   
“You know I am the king of denial, that crap won’t work on me.”  
“I had you pegged as more of an emperor sort of guy.”  
“I am, most definitely. In a Kuzco kind of way. But you have failed to distract me. What’s wrong?”  
Steve capitulated easily with a sigh, “It’s just… I’m sorry. If I hadn’t been… you wouldn’t have… Oh Tony, I’m so sorry.”  
Tony propped himself up on his elbows, swallowing against the nausea that the medication brought and the twinge of pain that reached him before the pills worked their magic.  
“I think Bruce has me on stuff far stronger than he should. Because there better be no way in hell you are apologising for trying to take down one of the leaders of Hydra. Or for me choosing to dive after you. Because if you are I will take you down.”  
The corners of Steve’s mouth twitched, “I don’t think you’ll be taking anyone down, the state you’re in.”  
Tony’s face dropped all humour, look of steel in his eyes, “keep blaming yourself for stupid things and you’ll see.”  
“Maybe learn to take your own advice.”  
“What? I never blame myself for things I didn’t do.”  
“Sure, Tony.”  
“Exactly, now get your butt up here so we can grill a certain assassin and a certain soldier exactly on what their intentions are towards each other.”  
“Which one do you want to give the shovel talk to?”  
“Well,” Tony mused, “both can kill me with their pinkie. So make Clint do it.”  
“Sounds like a plan,” Steve agreed, nuzzling against Tony’s neck.  
It smelled like hospital antiseptic and sea salt and sweat. But beneath all of that there was something that smelled undeniably and irrevocably like home. After all, they do say home is where your heart is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The coastal area they end up in – The Stair Hole Dorset, Lulworth Cove.  
> https://www.flickr.com/photos/whats42/9113107211


	27. Is this like some bad Freaky Friday remake or what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya everyone,
> 
> Sorry it's been so long, I've had such a crappy year and life is finally starting to settle again. There's just this chapter and one after, until this story is done. Then the sequels and stuff :D
> 
> I hope you enjoy.
> 
> And to everyone who's stuck with me and been so patient, thank you so so much and ily from the very depths of my heart.
> 
> Forever yours,  
> SkywardGeek

# Chapter 27 – Is this like some bad Freaky Friday remake or what?

 

Tony blinked his eyes open, head feeling muzzy but all limbs were in place and not broken so that was a major plus. His entire body felt achey but it was so much better than normal. Unconsciousness usually led to a whole new meaning to pain, he must be hooked up to the good stuff.

“Hey, he’s coming round. Barton, how are you feeling?”

Oh god, had Clint been hurt after Tony blacked out. He thought he’d gotten him away from that b-, uh witch, he meant witch. He sat up fast, scanning the room. One other bed occupied the room, Steve blocking the view of whoever was there, probably Barton. Tony wasn’t quite so petty as to- actually yes he was, he was so fucking jealous that Steve would wait by Clint’s bedside and not his own. But Steve was probably being a good team leader, checking on everyone in his team. Fingers guided his eyes to Coulson, staring at him in- oh sweet mother Mary, Joseph, and the little baby Jesus- love, pure unadulterated love. Oh god, this was weird. And shit what was Coulson doing? He was leaning in, shit, _shit,_ ** _ **SHIT!**_** Coulson brushed a tender kiss to his forehead. Tony rolled from the bed, landing with an ‘oomph’ on the floor.

“What the _FUCK_  are you doing? Steve is right _there._ ”

Coulson looked beyond confused.

“You’ve… never cared about Steve’s presence before,” he said cautiously.

That caused Tony to see red.

“What? What! Never cared? I’m dating the guy, of course I fucking care if you kiss me. Back the fuck off. What about Barton? And Steve,” he spluttered wheeling around to face the guy, “I would never with Agent. He’s not my type. He’s dating Barton for crying out loud, pretty sure that makes him not my type.”

Steve and Coulson just stared at him with matching looks of utter horror.

“Tony?” Steve whispered.

“Yeah Steve, look I swear nothing happened with Coulson.”

“No no, I believe that. But _you_  are _Tony_?”

“Yes, same as I was last week.”

“Last week Tony Stark confessed something to me, what were the exact words he used?

Tony glared at him, really not wanting to repeat this in front of witnesses even if it was only Coulson.

“I hate you for making me do this,” then his tone changed to one so hesitant and loving, a smile gracing his face as he thought back, “ ‘Thank you. It’s hard letting myself fall for anyone but somehow you made it easy. I never imagined I could love someone this deeply but then I never imagined I would be lucky enough, that the universe would be kind enough, to let me meet you.’ ”

Steve’s jaw dropped, Coulson just walked over to the opposite bed and took Steve’s vacated seat, head resting in one hand as if this whole ordeal was giving _him_  a headache. This whole thing was making Tony uncomfortable, his hand automatically reaching down to tap his familiar (lack of) rhythm against the glass plate of the arc reactor. Only he could feel the tapping. He looked down at his chest. No comforting blue glow. Oh god, he was going to be sick. Steve pushed him back onto the bed just as his knees gave out. He looked at Steve helplessly.

“How am I alive right now? I have no arc, where’s my Duracell? WHERE IS MY ARC?”

“Well…” Steve attempted to start to explain but soon Tony was aware that something had changed. His hands were softer, with callouses in the wrong places. The scars that dotted his arms, tiny cuts from metal and burns from welding without all the safety equipment (always fine with Dummy on fire duty) were nowhere to be seen. Instead he was met with a new set of tiny nicks and cuts. The scratches, scrapes, and scars that told the story of his life were nowhere to be seen, replaced by a new story, someone else’s story. There was a groan from across the room.

“Urgh, my head… Shit, I think I broke some ribs, my chest feels weird… OH MY FUCKING FUCK. WHY DO I HAVE A GLOWING DISC OF DOOM IN MY CHEST?!”

 

“So,” Tony said, crossing his arms across his empty chest.

“This is trippy, how are you so calm?” Clint asked examining Tony’s, well technically since Tony is in Clint’s body it was Clint’s, face.

Yes this really was trippy. Tony was staring at his own face being controlled by another person. The first hints of grey were showing in his hairline, wrinkles appearing around the eyes. Seeing himself like this, he could see the years of strain tightly coiled in his muscles, a phantom ache he felt in Clint’s body.

“I’m a genius and all.”

“Well technically I’m the genius right now.”

“We need to run tests,” Tony said thoughtfully.

“Why?”

“See how much of us is us.”

“Am I going to have your shitty sleeping pattern?”

“Potentially. Plus no going near Steve.”

“Or Coulson.”

“Agreed.”

“Sleep in the guest rooms?”

“Yeah. No going up in the vents, diminished lung capacity so dust doesn’t do wonders. Learnt that after the video game escapade.”

“Damn.”

Tony grabbed his tablet and brought up an IQ test.

“Take this, I’ll do the same once you are done. Don’t tell me what you got.”

Clint took the test, Tony taking it a few minutes later.

“Well?”

Clint just looked stunned.

“Hey,” Tony snapped his fingers in front of Clint’s face.

“Two hundred and fifty. What the hell?!”

“Yeah I got a hundred and seventy.”

“You got mine.”

“And you got mine, do you think we have each other’s memories?”

“You are strangely curious about this.”

“You are strangely uncurious about this.”

Clint just got up from his position on the medical bed and paced up and down the small room. Tony was tapping against his sternum, unable to keep his (Clint’s?) hands still. Clint wheeled round to face him, jabbing him in the chest with a finger.

“Don’t go through my memories okay?”

“Okay, but I do want to test if we do actually have each other’s. So I need you to think back to my fifteenth birthday and tell me what happened.”

Clint looked thoughtful for a moment, then shock slowly spread across his face.

“Why the fuck did you do that?”

“What? It was college.”

Clint just eyed him suspiciously.

“Did you really need the llama for that? I am amazed you didn’t get on SHIELDs watch list a hell of a lot sooner if this is what you were capable of at fifteen.”

“Yeah, weird ain’t it? But hey, it all worked out in the end. Maybe MIT will be our Budapest,” Tony grinned, fluttering his eyelashes.

Barton gave him a look which looked bizarrely serious when it was displayed on Tony’s face. Tony just frowned using Clint’s.

“Stop that, you’ll give me wrinkles.”

“You already got ‘em old man.”

Tony rolled his eyes, __old man__. Barton was only a year younger than him. They needed to figure out how to reverse this. SHIELD R &D was on it but Tony couldn’t wait that long.

“Lab?”

“Yep.”

 

It didn’t make sense. He knew the answer was in there somewhere. He just couldn’t see it. Why couldn’t he see it? No equations added up, no formulas made sense, even the most basic things (or at least as basic as Tony Stark gets, which is to say, not at all) were unintelligible. Now he knew Barton wasn’t dumb, the 170 IQ proved that. But his head was built for angles and strategy. Tony needed numbers and science and he was going to go crazy (well, crazier) if he couldn’t science right now. Clint just breezed in, solving the equation and blew out again. Tony wanted to scream. He headed to the gym, stealing Clint’s bow along the way. The archery range. Muscle memory helped. Bullseye after bullseye, striking down everything from moving targets to the holographic projections to the clay pigeons fired across the room. It was oddly soothing, the more he did it the more he felt at home. Until memories flashed before his eyes. He didn’t mean for it to happen, didn’t go looking for it. But there was flashes of the battle of New York, of Loki. He hated it, the guilt that could only match his own. Barton deserved his privacy, he didn’t want to be in his head, or for Barton to be in his own. Setting down the bow delicately, he fled the room. And whilst fleeing he stumbled over a pale Barton pressed against the wall of the corridor, breathing heavily.

“Nightmare?”

Barton nodded, drawing his legs up to his chest.

“Which one?”

Clint remained silent, oddly unsettling considering he was in Tony’s body, and Tony could talk for days.

“Okay, I’ll list them and you nod to which one. Sound good? Right,” Tony wracked his brain for all the different nightmares he’d suffered, “Afghanistan? Alright, no. Err, Space? Obadiah? Steve drowning? Not those either… Not the Whiplash palladium one right? Wasn’t Howard was it?” He asked glancing askance at Clint, shake of the head proving not, “good, he pops up from time to time. What else is there? The latest addition, what happened a month ago?,” another shake of Clint’s head, “…Oh.”

Realisation suddenly dawned on him. The worst of them all, unable to shake the feeling of death that followed for days after that nightmare.

“The one where everyone…”

Tony couldn’t even force himself to finish it, the word catching in his throat. And Clint nodded. Violated in the deepest sense, fear laid bare for Clint to see. So he did what he does best. Deny, and pretend it never happened.

“It’s not that bad. It-“

“No that was horrible. And you deal with this nightly?”

“Now to be fair, that one only happens when I’m stressed. And,” Tony shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot, “I have Steve usually. He helps.”

Tony blushed bright red in embarrassment. But then it occurred to him. Until this spell wears off, or someone finds a way to reverse it Tony couldn’t go near Steve. And it made him ache deep in his chest. He slid down the wall and sat next to Clint, bumping his shoulder.

“Just bear with it. I’ll find a way out of this,” Tony promised.

 

It had been three weeks, a massive 21 days of feeling wrong. Just wrong in the very sense of his being. He was tired of sleeping in the guest room, tired of feeling compelled to burn of his frustration with archery, tired of not being allowed near Steve. Not with this body. He couldn’t even go to his workshop because nothing made sense with the wrong head on his shoulders. And he couldn’t listen to music because he’d misplaced Clint’s hearing aids and couldn’t make damn new ones like this. Films felt equally as pointless. With a noise of disgusted frustration Tony flopped down onto the bed, bouncing up a little with the impact. Eventually he drifted off to sleep.

 

At first the world was blue, a soft shimmering blue like light reflected off a swimming pool. The world was full of vantage points and targets and he was sure to only hit the bullseye. He could feel everything, the world was now only lines and angles. He could sense the wind speed, feel the weight of the arrow in his palm, know how everything affects everything else. It was perfection. It was simplicity. It was more than knowledge, it was truth. Slowly he took a deep breath. The lines of his shoulders flexed as he raised his bow, pulling the string taut as he lined up his shot. He released and then the world was red. A world on fire. There was nothing but silence as he watched the arrow fly through the void in front of him. And it hit its target, a dead centre bullseye. He watched the target fall to the ground, white-blonde hair circling her head like a pristine halo. Until the blood soaked through, fuel to the flames of the world. And then the world was purple. Somehow he had moved from his vantage point over 400 yards away to be right by her side. He had no memory of moving but suddenly he was there next to her. And the world around him was purple. But slowly her lips turned blue, and his hands were stained red, and the girl was a ghost in his arms.

 

Tony woke up with a start, eyes snapping open with practise that Tony had never experienced. And the world was multi-coloured as always. But he felt ill at ease. Like a clockwork toy that had been wound too tight. The key had been twisted and twisted and soon the springs would snap and the coils would break and the gears would shift and nothing would be in place. Something was going to break and soon. They needed to find a way out of this. He ran to Thor, demanding he summon Loki. The God of Mischief appeared beside him in the next second. He sighed melodramatically.

“Do you mortals have to drag me into things whenever you mess with magic? I am tired of being the maid of your small little world.”

“Maid? You make more messes than you clean,” Tony bit out exasperatedly.

Loki merely rolled his eyes and beckoned Tony to follow him down the hall.

“So you are trapped in the archer’s body?”

“Yup.”

“And is the archer in your body?”

“Yup.”

“You could be more obliging.”

“Yup.”

“Where is the archer?”

“Guest suite.”

Loki followed Tony into the guest apartment he and Clint had been sharing to avoid the others. Loki circled them with sweeping steps, pondering them. He moved them to stand next to each other. A wave of his hand and a seal appeared on the floor, burning silver on the hardwood floors. It had a nautical star just off centre, right where Tony was standing. Rings of lines surrounded him, making up an image of stars inside of the sun. Then the circle curved, lines making up a bright moon with curls of silver filling it, another star at the top of the seal – where Clint was standing – and a final star at the bottom where Loki was stood. His fingers wove a complicated dance through the air, streaks of red and purple and green weaving through the air. The red and purple were woven entirely around Tony, knotted and binding him. The green flowed freely between the three of them. Loki sighed softly, brow furrowing as the green kept weaving in between the knots of purple and red. Slowly knot after knot came undone.

“I have managed to separate your memories and your intellects but this,” he frowned at the largest knot, located directly over Tony’s heart, the red thread tangling with purple and connecting directly with the arc reactor, “this I can’t untangle. It’s… locked.”

“Locked?” Clint questioned, a touch of derision in his voice that managed to mask the quiver at being in such proximity to the God.

“Well not locked but there is no word for it in the tongue of mortals. It’s like this.”

He waved his hands and the world disappeared around them, turning into darkness with only the silver seal giving them light enough to see each other. He stepped towards Tony, pulling at the knot tied to his heart. It exploded in a shower of silver sparks. And as each spark landed on the floor, they became ghostly figures, echoes of memories. Howard Stark with cold, displeased words. Obadiah Stane with lustful, murderous eyes. Ivan Vanko with vengeful, hateful actions. And then it was him. The ghost of his regret, his failure, everything that he was looming over him.

“Don’t waste your life Stark.”

And suddenly Tony found the air very thin, his head spinning as his lungs gasped for oxygen that just wouldn’t come. He was wasting his life, he needed to work, he needed to make things better. He needed to make himself better.

“Loki, stop this,” Clint demanded, “can’t you see what you are doing to him, stop it.”

“One more second,” Loki muttered, still pulling apart the threads.

Strange letters jumped through the air, burning blood red. Loki pulled them free of their binds and copied them onto paper. Tony had dropped to his knees, hitting the ground hard and still he couldn’t draw in breath. Clint made to move towards him but Loki hissed at him.

“Move and you could kill him. I. AM. ALMOST. DONE.”

Another few seconds and the seal at their feet flickered and faded, the world around them becoming the guest suite once more. Loki held up the paper, the script on the pages making no sense. At Loki’s nod Clint rushed to Tony’s side with a glare.

“Don’t you dare pass out on me Stark, Cap will kill me,” Clint hissed through gritted teeth.

“I’m ‘kay… Just…minute.”

Loki circled them, reading through the paper.

“It seems the magic is tied to Stark-“

“Why is it always me?” Tony moaned pathetically.

“- and removing it seems simple enough. There are a few lines of script here, a riddle really but this particular magic caster isn’t the most inventive and could use lessons from Amora if she wants to be taken at all seriously. Even Lorelei, with her wiles, can conjure a better charm than this-“

Tony and Clint tuned him out as the archer checked over Tony as his most recent panic attack faded away. Tony pushed his hands away with a smile.

“I’m fine,” he lied.

Clint raised his eyebrows, glancing over him sceptically but ultimately deciding not to pursue the issue.

“So,” Tony asked, “what do we do?”

“I can only tell you what the enchantment has told me. And that is you must __teach the blind man sight and the deaf man songs; teach the lone wolf to which pack he belongs; teach the heartless to love and the stoic to cry; teach the wisest to be humble and the fearful to fly. Teach those this or try in vain; for those of many faces to be themselves again.”__ _ _  
__

“What the fuck?” Clint exclaimed, “a riddle? Why is it always riddles? What the hell does that mean?”

 

“I’ve got it!” Tony exclaimed after an hour of silence in which the genius, the archer and the god of mischief had all sat and pondered the riddle.

They all startled at his voice, turning with looks that were mildly accusatory and eagerly anticipatory.

“It’s about perception.”

Loki sighed deeply, “how in the ten realms did you draw that conclusion, metal man?”

“Ten? I thought there were only nine,” Clint hummed absently.

“Thor hasn’t told you about our sister then.”

Tony and Clint both shook their heads, watching as Loki rose to his feet, all long limbs and willowy grace. He paced back and forth for a moment, “you’ll probably meet her given time.”

“So, perception?” Clint wondered aloud.

“Perception,” Tony replied, “it depends how you perceive the idea of sound and sight for the deaf or blind man. Because they can feel and translate that to sight and sound. The heartless might be at the wrong end of perception and simply be hardened by life. The stoic is a similar case. So they might need to look at what their idea of society and life means and if it’s fulfilling. Then you have the idea of what is intelligence and what is fear and bravery. You have different kinds of intelligence, social, book smarts, street smarts, basic common sense, artistic intelligence, and then you can go into sub categories from there. You may be smart but you might not be intelligent,” Tony muttered, more to himself, “fear is a perceived danger, and sometimes that danger isn’t there at all. Irrational fears. And what is brave. To some it’s fighting aliens, and to others it’s just making it through the day. So it’s about how we perceive the world.”

“Well the magic is tied to you, Metal Man,” Loki drawled, leaning back lazily in his chair, “if that is indeed the answer to the riddle, then it is how you perceive.”

Tony recoiled, smacking his hand into a side table.

“Hey, watch it, you are damaging __my__ hands, and I need those.”

Tony nodded, not really listening. He perceived the world just fine. He hardly saw it through rose tinted glasses. He was a realist, a futurist. What could he be missing?

 

Six days since they __apparently__  solved the riddle, and Tony wasn’t happy. It was his fault they were still like this, according to Loki, and if it went on any longer Coulson, Clint, and Steve would all start blaming him. He was hardly blind or deaf, especially with Jarvis around. No one in the group was a lone wolf, so it’s not like he can teach anyone they belong. Certainly no one was heartless. Not even Natasha. No one was particularly stoic. Tony could list off the last times everyone had cried. Steve was last week, watching Marley and Me. Natasha was June 7th 2013, though he didn’t know why. He’d need to ask Clint. Clint’s was Valentine’s Day 2014 when Coulson had made Clint his emergency contact. Bruce was watching a documentary three months ago. Apparently the elephant hadn’t made it. And Thor was 10 minutes ago when he discovered Clint ate the last poptart. See, everyone on the team cried. Bruce was totally humble about being the smartest, and he wouldn’t say anyone on the team were particularly fearful of anything. Hmm…

“Tony,” Bruce tapped against the glass wall, “you need to eat.”

Not until he solves this. Tony waved him away, turning his chair to face the opposite side of the room. He needed to solve it or the spell wouldn’t lift. He had to solve this.

 

“I couldn’t get him out of there,” Bruce sighed, slumping down into a dining chair.

Steve was making blueberry pancakes, and stacking them high, “did he let you in?”

Bruce shook his head, sitting up and picking up the newspaper across the table. There was a rustle of pages as Bruce flicked through.

“Uh oh.”

Bruce spread the page he was reading, out on the table. Steve hurried from the kitchen to see what had put the doctor ill at ease. Leaning over Bruce’s shoulder, he read aloud.

“Asimo has a girlfriend, and she can climb stairs,” Steve looked at Bruce confused.

“Not that one, this one,” Bruce tapped the paper.

Bruce’s finger lay on a picture of Stark Tower with an article next to it. A photo of Tony, with his press smile in place, was inset into the article.

“Stark stocks drop twenty points after the mysterious vanishing of Mr Stark. The renowned billionaire philanthropist has seemingly dropped off the face of the earth, which is likely considering his side job in the avengers – is the Avengers his side job?”

Bruce smirked at the paper, the clarified, “No, it’s not his side job. Tony has two jobs. He works with us, and when he isn’t called out by the Avengers or working on the Avengers weaponry, armour, artillery, vehicles, etcetera, he works at Stark industries.”

“But he’s hardly disappeared, he’s in his workshop.”

Bruce sighed, rubbing at his chin a little, “true, but to the entire rest of the world, that’s Clint. And Tony isn’t working on anything down there for either the Avengers or Stark Industries. He’s trying to solve that stupid riddle. Normally he’d announce a new design every week or two. And now he’s gone three weeks without anything. Of course the media will start speculating.”

Steve glared at the paper, “they’re lying though. They have no proof.”

Shrugging, Bruce replied, “that’s what they do.”

“But Tony’s going to be so… he’s going to be so angry when he hears this.”

 

“Nat, not now. I need to figure this out.”

“Thought you’d want to see this,” she ignored his words and waved today’s newspaper in front of him.

“What about it?” Tony asked, though not concentrating on her at all.

Natasha sighed and unfolded the newspaper, perching herself on the edge of the desk, “Stark stocks drop twenty points after the mysterious vanishing of Mr Stark,” she read.

“Good, that’s good,” Tony muttered distractedly, scribbling something on the paper in front of him.

“No, that’s bad.”

Tony blinked for a second, like his brain was resetting itself, “sorry, what?”

“Stark stocks drop twenty points after the mysterious vanishing of Mr Stark.”

“SHIT!”

He bolted up and began scrambling, tripping over his own feet as he reached his laptop.

“Jay, call Pepper.”

“Dialling sir, though are you sure that’s wise in your current state?”

“Yes, please just let me talk to her. We need damage control.”

The phone was ringing, until eventually there was a click as the line was picked up.

“Pepper!”

“Clint, why are you calling me? Where’s Tony?”

“I am Tony, long story, bodyswap and magic, just believe me.”

There was a long, exasperated sigh, “I won’t ask. But I assume you are calling about the stocks. They’ve dropped lower and we’ve bounced back. You shouldn’t be worried.”

“But what if we don’t this time?” Tony asked frantically, “we need to fix this.”

“Look, Tony,” Pepper began to reason, “the only way we’ve fixed this in the past is a press conference, and a new product launch. We claim that your time away was to produce something big. And you being in Clint’s body means it isn’t possible for __you__ to do the press conference.”

Tony narrowed his eyes, “what are you suggesting?”

“We get Clint to do the conference for you.”

“Nope, nahuh, denied, not acceptable. He doesn’t know the first thing about this company.”

Pepper groaned down the line, “I knew you’d say that. You never like people helping you.”

“But Pepper-“

“We could coach him, give him an earpiece to give him the answers. I’m sure everyone would help.”

“I don’t need anyone’s help,” Tony snapped, “I can sort this mess on my own.”

He could feel Natasha glaring at the back of his skull.

“Do you really think we wouldn’t help you?” She asked, striding to his side, “Pepper, book that press conference, he’s doing it.”

“But I-“

“Ignore him, he’s just cranky because he’s tired. Thanks Pepper, please contact us with the date, we’ll make sure Clint is ready.”

The line clicked off and Tony scowled at Natasha, “you had no right to do that.”

“No, but you need to learn that you have people who have your back.”

And with that, she strode out of his workshop.

 

Fine, they were doing this. Clint was dressed in __his__ best suit, wearing __his__  rose tinted sunglasses, with the group trying to make Clint grin __his__ cocky smirk.

”It’s like this,” Bruce tried to demonstrate but it just didn’t work.

Steve was shaking his head, trying to stifle his laughter, “No it isn’t.”

”Aye, the man of Iron looks like this in front of the press,” Thor grinned, looking nothing like how Tony knew his signature smirk looked.

Finally Steve. He tried to do the smirk but it just… Just no.

”Stop, stop doing that with your face,” Tony covered Steve’s face with his hands, turning to Clint, “Okay, to pull this off you have to walk like me, talk like me, act like me, and think like me. It’s more than just smirking at a crowd and them handing you money. So come on, stand up.”

Clint stood up, looking expectantly at Tony. Tony circled him like a Hawk, pinpointing every moment that Clint was Clint and not Tony.

”Stand up straight, you are short and don’t want to emphasise that. Shoulders back and head up. There’s no need to look down or away. You own the room. Say it with me.”

”I own the room.”

”You don’t have to believe it, but you need to make them believe it. You with me? Now walk for me.”

Clint walked, steady gait, marching the way a soldier would.

”Stop, stop, you aren’t a fighter. You are a business man. You stride forward, knowing people will move out of your way.”

”Do you really think that?”

”No,” Tony laughed, “but I have to get people to think I do. Sort of like an actor’s job is to pretend to be whatever their role is. They can’t be a person pretending, even though that’s what they are. They have to be a doctor, or a pirate, or an explorer.”

”And what about you?”

”Huh, what about me?”

”Who are you?” Clint asked, looking at Tony curiously, head tilted.

”I play the part of a high-ranking notoriously ruthless business man.”

”But who’s the person playing that?”

Tony laughed at Clint, only stopping when he realised everyone was watching intently, waiting on his answer.

”You know who I am.”

”But collectively, we really don’t know that much about you,” Bruce posited.

”Can you blame me for not being big on sharing?” Tony laughed, before turning back to Clint, “I mean you’re a spy,” then he began turning to face everyone in the circle, “spy, God with magic powers, government’s watchlist and known flight risk, and hell, even Steve works for Shield.”

”So you lack trust in us, your brothers in arms.”

Tony shrugged, “I don’t blame you, in all comes with your jobs.”

Steve stepped forward, hand coming to rest on his bicep, “Tony, we’d never betray your trust, not to Shield or anyone else.”

Shrugging Steve’s hand off, Tony turned back to Clint.

”What do you think when you look at me in front of crowds or press?”

”I think you’re a douche.”

”Then that’s how you will have to act.”

”Seriously though Tony,” Steve interrupted, Natasha standing firm at his right shoulder, “none of us would want to do anything to harm the trust you’ve placed in us.”

”You’re all reading waaay too much into this, I’ve just learned from my mistakes. That’s all,” he spun round to face Clint, “You get it right, you’ve had my nightmares.”

Clint nodded solemnly, a chill running up his spine at the undesired images that sprung to mind.

”See, he gets it. I let someone in and it led to a convey of soldiers getting killed. And a doctor who should have made it out instead of me.”

Natasha’s mouth formed a small ‘o’ before she stepped forward and pulled Tony into a hug.

”It wasn’t your fault,” she whispered in his ear, “It wasn’t your fault.”

”So many people have died because of me,” he whispered back, breath causing red strands of hair to flick up.

”It wasn’t because of you. It was never because of you. It wasn’t your fault. No one has ever told you that have they? And you’ve been living with the guilt ever since. It wasn’t your fault. Do not let this consume you.”

He would not cry. He refused. He had to keep going, keep making up for the lives he took. He had to stay strong. Stark men were made of iron and they did not break.

”It wasn’t your fault.”

And the floodgates opened. He sobbed relentlessly into Natasha’s shoulder, as she shushed him softly and stroked his hair, repeating over and over again that it wasn’t his fault. Soon a multitude of arms crowded him, everyone hugging him from all sides. They broke after five minutes, when Tony had finally stopped crying, and yes Tony counted every second. Clearing his throat awkwardly, trying to force his voice into his normal not choked sounding tone, Tony turned back to Clint.

”So, the smirk.”

 

“And what is the difference between the Stark MRI and a regular MRI?”

”Seriously, Tony, we’ve been through this 104 times.”

”Humour me,” Tony answered with a humourless smile.

He was nervous enough and really didn’t need Clint giving him attitude about grilling him. Clint had never had more than basic knowledge of what his company did, and now he was having to pretend to run it.

”The difference is the Stark MRI requires no helium to run, beneficial because of the dwindling reserves of helium on the planet.”

Pepper rushed in, handing Clint a stack of papers, and turning to Tony.

”I know you’ve swapped bodies but I’m struggling to see it. All I see is Tony and Clint mimicking Tony.”

”Perfect,” Tony grinned shark-toothed, clapping his hands together.

Clint smirked, a perfect copy of the face Tony was making.

”Save it for the stage, Barton.”

”Just getting into character, Stark.”

”Now, what’s the code if you need information through the ear piece?”

”Take a sip of water. But what if I’m just thirsty?”

”You’re a spy, deal with it.”

”Time to go, Mr Stark,” Pepper began ushering Clint towards the stage.

Tony wasn’t religious, but he thought if there was a time to start praying, it would be right now.

 

“Did he just take a sip?”

”No Tony,” replied Bruce’s bored tone, “he reshuffled the papers.”

This had been happening every three minutes. Tony would take any movement as a cry for help.

”The archer has indeed learned everything he had need to,” Thor added, voice only slightly under booming.

And that was the thing wasn’t it. Tony still wasn’t used to having people who had his back. And he had to admit Clint had his back and then some. He had answered questions about things Tony hadn’t had time to teach him. He answered questions about things Tony hadn’t anticipated coming up. And he did it all with Tony’s own unique panache. Only it wasn’t quite so unique anymore. One reporter raised her hand into the air, still clasping at his pen.

”And how are you and Captain Rogers doing? Do you think this recent surge in media attention has had any impact on your relationship with him?”

Clint carefully sipped at the water, looking thoughtful as he pondered the question. Tony quickly flicked on the ear piece.

”The Captain and I are doing very well, __thank you so much for being so concerned about our relationship__ ,” Tony bit out, sarcasm in his tone.

Clint echoed with a slightly more clipped “We’re doing very well.”

”He’s been called to duty by Shield, and is incredibly sorry he couldn’t join us.”

Clint mirrored the words for the press, Tony watching in glee as they drank it in. He never got such a brilliant 3rd person view on his press conferences. Instead of sat on those hard plastic chairs, here he was, drinking a hot cup of coffee on his plushy cozy sofa.

”Do you think you’ll be tying the knot anytime soon?” One reporter cheekily asked.

”The only knot I’ll be tying right now is my windsor knot because I really must get back to work. This company doesn’t run itself,” Clint grinned down at the press, smile full of mirth.

He got up and left the conference, throwing up a double peace sign for the camera.

 

And just like that, the ordeal was over. No mistakes, could not have gone smoother. Clint walked into the apartment with a swagger and held up his hand to Natasha who high fived him and joined him in his procession of triumph. He finally reached Tony, who held out his hand. Clint grasped it firmly, pulling him into a one-armed hug.

Separating, Tony grinned at the archer, “thanks for that, for everything. How did you know all that? They even asked you things we hadn't covered.”

"You know when you wander in from work and talk about your day? We all listen."

And that was a shocker. He thought the only person who actually listened to him talk about his day was Jarvis. He knew Steve heard him, he just didn't think he listened.

”Sorry about making you answer about Steve, just didn’t want to make up shit about your personal lives,” Clint said with a shrug.

”No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have doubted you. Doubted any of you. You’re my family, and I know you’ve got this.”

”Yeah, I got this bro.”

Tony’s smile grew wider, “you got this.”

This strange sensation began sweeping over him, and going by the look on Clint’s face, it hit him too. It was like people were pinching and pulling him, stretching him like putty before pushing him back together. The world had a strange vignette,  yellow dots spotting across his vision. Then the darkness came.

 

He came round soon enough, Natasha canting over him and Clint. And he was him again. The comforting weight of the arc reactor back and settled in his chest. The roughness of his palms and the raised lines of hundreds of small scars. Natasha was feeling his forehead, and feeling Clint’s.

”I think I know the answer but who’s who?”

”Nothing changed,” Clint protested alarmed.

”He’s lying, Nat, we’re back to normal.”

”Don’t think you can trick her, Clint.”

”I’m not Clint.”

Natasha sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “you’re both idiots. Okay, what happened in Budapest?”

Instantly, Tony turned to Clint, who was looking anywhere but Natasha.

”Gotcha,” She grabbed him by the earlobe and stood, giving him no choice but to follow. She turned to Tony, eyes glistening with mischief, “he’s mine, don’t even try to save him.”

”Don’t worry, he’s all yours.”

And he meant it. After all, he hadn’t kissed Steve in nearly a month and he desperately wanted to change that.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Forward Momentum](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4780373) by [wintersnight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintersnight/pseuds/wintersnight)




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